


Glasgow Kiss

by ss9



Category: The Book Group, The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Michelle Gomez - Freeform, Peter Capaldi - Freeform, come on the plot bunnies made me do it, twissy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 68,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ss9/pseuds/ss9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dreaded evil plot bunnies have done it again, the crossover twissy pairing to end all pairings Malcolm Tucker x Janice McCann</p><p>Plot: It's Scottish independence referendum time and a last ditch opportunity for Mr Malcolm Tucker to claw back something resembling a career before it's too f****** late.</p><p>Shame nobody thought to warn him just what that would entail: kilts, haggis and a certain footballer's wife turned MP who it seems exists solely to drive him insane.</p><p>Rated mature for Malcolm prefered language choices aka blue</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Day 1: 9.00 AM Edinburgh

It was a fucking job.

Just a job.

Just a stepping stone out of this mire of mediocrity and heap of steaming shit he currently called his life.

Yet as the cab pulled up to the curb in front of the dull nondescript looking headquarters that could have been mistaken for a fucking accountancy firm of all things Malcolm Tucker did his best to try and look on the bright side. He was at least going to be paid for shovelling this steaming pile of shit unlike the damn pro-bono work he had being juggling in a faint and distant hope of resurrecting his once glittering career.

That single bright spark lasted just long enough for him to step out of the cab into the drizzle and into the fucking biggest puddle Malcolm had seen since the pissing contest at the party conference.

Socks squelching as he stepped up to the building and buzzed for entry Malcolm tried his best to keep the disgust from his face. Yet he was no bloody bollocking saint and only a saint would find the strength to hide his contempt for these people. He was only here as a favour to Jamie, or was it more like as Jamie's favour to him?

There were times when Malcolm was able to forget for a moment just how far he had fallen, how his name that once left Politicians and News editors quaking in their polyester suits now was the butt of half of the joke's in Westminster. Well they would be laughing on the other side of their faces eventually, in the meantime Malcolm had to eat, had to pay bills and that human necessity had brought him here…

Feigning a smile as he was finally greeted, effusively even, all young bright eager smiles. And so they bloody well should smile. Malcolm went into automatic schmooze mode, handshake, joke, handshake, smile, earnest nodding.

These lowly bunch off pissants were once the political pond scum that old Malcolm would have wiped off his chin before breakfast.

Dear God even their bloody campaign material was enough to make his eyes bleed. Yet Malcolm somehow found it in himself to force a smile even though the edges were more than a little sharp.

'Just say Yes'

What sort of dumn fuck came up with that slogan? It sounded like the ad slogan for the pro-drug and sexual deviancy community. Well it didn't fucking matter how crap it was it wasn't like Malcolm was here to actually help them win now was it?

"Just keep an eye on them. Nobody expects them to win, the opinion polls say the No's have it in the bag but we could do without any nasty surprises." Were Jamie's cryptic instructions, "After all we all know the result people wish to see."

Which when ran through Tucker translation service equated to sink this bloody boat and make it look like a fucking accident. Suicide would be preferable of course and judging by this bunch of wet behind the ears muppets that should be the easier than giving out free wanks at a whore's birthday party.

It was kiddy stuff, well below a man of his many talents but fine if that's how the bumfucks at headquarters wanted to play it then Malcolm was not beyond a little debasing himself if it got him the payoff he was owed! He had already more than earned that job as global communications lead for said "anonymous" international news and telecommunications organisation. He had paid for it in years of blood sweat and tears given in service to the last bunch of bastards.

But fine if they wanted to jerk his chain one last time he would bend over the desk and take it.

Take it and fucking smile while they used him one last time, and it would be the last fucking time.

Yet as his jaw started to ache from the unnatural falseness of holding a smile this long Malcolm was finally ushered into an empty conference room and he could allow his smile to fade to the more natural scowl he usually wore. There was being used and then there was being used and never in his entire career had Malcolm Tucker be brought this low…

Scottish Independence no one south of the Pennines gave a fuck this was "Local Politics" the elephants graveyard where washed up political has-beens went to die.

Well not him. He was going places, he going back up the ladder.

Malcolm Tucker didn't care who he had to screw or screw over but before the year was out he was going to be back on top where he belonged and then from his newly elevated position he was going shit all over those mewling arsewipes who had dared to mock him.

Watch the fuck out world Malcolm Tucker was on his way.

-/-

Day 1: 10.15 AM Edinburgh (AKA half way down Satan's hell-slide)

Someone was going to die.

At the moment Tucker didn't know who exactly but some faceless twat was going to be strung up by the short and curlies just as soon as Malcolm worked out which smug faced bastard had set him up.

As humiliating as the original step down would have been as campaign manager for the "no hope" brigade, to find out that contrary to his expectations he Malcolm Tucker Spin King Extraordinaire was actually only ONE of the Referendum Campaign Managers and not THE Referendum Campaign Manager. That he had to vet his ideas past the other two before they could be actioned actually caused him snort out his nose like a rampaging bull.

He wasn't even being given the fat fishy twat to image manage; instead he had been bundled off to work with someone from the fucking agricultural department…

Malcolm didn't even know sodding Scotland had an agricultural department. Sheep and fucking fish what exactly needed managing about them?

Oh he had been right royally shafted by someone.

Well fine he would just have to make do with some illiterate highland farmer for the time being, time it would take for him to dig up the relevant dirt on his other two campaign leads and bump them out of the door with a kick up their arse. Then he could take over.

Gripping the campaign dossier he had been given Malcolm slung the offending folder down on the table in the cupboard he had been given for an office, he couldn't even bring himself to open it. Instead he leant back in the uncomfortable plastic chair that was as far from a Westminster seat of power as it was possible to get. Rubbing his hands over his face he tried his best to gather himself, ready himself to face whatever drongo walked through that door next.

"Och hen you look beat do you wanna cuppa?"

Blinking as his brain caught up with his ears Malcolm lifted his gaze from the wipe clean desktop, surprise to find an attractive brunette leaning against his doorframe. Her bright blue eyes and sincere smile provoked a shiver of real revulsion. How the fuck could anyone be genuinely that happy to be here?

"No." Malcolm grunted ungratefully even though a cuppa did sound good, he wasn't here to make friends, and since this wasn't Sam Malcolm felt no need to try and restrain himself.

"Are ya sure? I ken get you a coffee if you prefer, though not one of those fancy frothy ones I'm afraid the machine broke last week…"

"I said No. Are you fucking deaf?" Malcolm huffed back, it was a petty pleasure but when the woman flinched at his tone or perhaps it was his foul language, it didn't matter really, yet for a moment Malcolm almost felt like his own self.

That she turned and scarpered leaving his cupboard door thankfully empty was merely the icing on the cake and Malcolm reached into his pocket for his mobile, flicking open the little device intent of sending an explicit text to a certain former press secretary just to share the pain. However before his predictive text had even finished the word Cu… an ugly pink piggy bank with adhesive plasters over its mouth was set down in front of him and on the side was scrawled…

"Oh you have got to be fucking joshing me!"

"That'll be two pounds now." The now unsmiling brunette insisted, her manicured eyebrow raised pointedly as she pushed the piggy bank closer to him.

"You can take that fucking piggy of yours and shove it up your anal retentive pussy!" Malcolm spat back, snorting in amusement as his adversary replied.

"Now it's five pounds."

"Anal is not a swear word." Malcolm scoffed. "So it's only fucking four pounds or didn't you learn to fucking count in Cunt College?"

"It is a pound for every f word, another pound for any non-swear word used in an offensive manner and that last disgusting comment will cost you five pounds all on its own."

"What Cunt?" Malcolm jested, relishing the way that word seemed to make the brunette tense up. "Cunt cunt cunty cunt?"

"Now that's thirty one pounds you owe the box Mr Tucker?" The brunette replied.

"Nope it's a free country. It's my fucking prerogative to fucking say whatever the fuck I like!" Malcolm retorted having built up a head of steam and feeling more like his old self than he had in ages. "When the fuck I like it."

Malcolm watched as the some high spots of colour appeared on the highly strung bitch's chiselled cheekbones. It was a shame she had something clearly shoved up her arse because otherwise she was quite the looker.

"Thirty five pounds Mr Tucker to be paid by the end of the day." Miss Bitch added crisply picking up her piggy bank and striding out the door leaving Malcolm to lounge in his chair and flip the uptight cow off. It was just a damn shame she had a back to him as it lost some of the laissez faire effect.

Now smiling as he sunk down in his chair Malcolm actually chuckled to himself, at least this dead end pile of shit for a town had some form of entertainment and Malcolm ran through all the possible swear words he could work into his everyday repertoire just to keep it from getting boring.

Oh well fun time over he glared at the damn campaign dossier, reaching out he pulled it closer and took a deep breath. Time to find out what sheep shagging tosser he was going to be working for over the next few months. Flipping the cover open he looked, than looked again, then stared with a slowly dawning look of sheer fucking horror as a familiar pair of eyes and cheekbones stared up at him from the glossy campaign photographs.

Oh shit he was right royally fucked this time!

-/-


	2. Chapter 2

-/-

Day 2: 9.30 AM Edinburgh (Or three quarters of the way down Shit Creek without so much as a fucking paddle)

It was fucking raining again.

Shivering inside the light rainmac that was built for London's warmer temperatures and not Scotland in January Malcolm Tucker decided the first thing he would do when he eventually got paid was buy a warmer coat, and a scarf and maybe some bloody gloves as well. Well actually the first thing he would really do was pay his hotel bill and then see if anything was actually left when bills and his ex-wife's monthly pound of flesh were settled.

Finances had been tighter than he cared to admit to himself let alone anyone else. It had all been much easier before, a good salary, a grace and favour apartment, expenses covered the basics he actually needed. It had been so long since he had been forced to pay for everything he needed that Malcolm had forgotten just how expensive living in London could be.

At first he had assumed his long experience would land him another position easily, yet it seemed former colleagues had a longer reach than he had expected and they were wreaking a delayed revenge. No one would touch him, oh he picked up the odd bit of free-lance and pro bono work but they didn't pay the bills. This referendum gig was the first proper nibble in ages. He couldn't afford to screw it up… well he couldn't afford screw it up until it was time to screw it up deliberately

So it was a small thing, a gesture of goodwill that Malcolm hoped would smooth over any lingering ruffled feathers…oh fuck who was he kidding it was bloody grovelling plain and simple but Malcolm Tucker had learnt long ago the valuable political skill of kissing arse when required.

So he hovered in front of the conference room door, portfolio and the PR plan he had sat up till two in the morning perfecting tucked under his arm. Carrying two Styrofoam cups filled with expensive frothy coffee from the coffee shop down the road that Malcolm had to pop out and fetch himself even in the damn drizzle. Now a good seven pounds poorer and his damn hair all damp he waited for the perfect moment to make his entrance.

"Sorry I'm late." He breezed in all bright false bonhomie to the busy conference room. "There was a d…" He paused swallowing down the almost expletive that was as natural to him as breathing…"d…dratted queue at the coffee shop."

See there he could do this, he could play along and beat these people at their own game, and Malcolm's smile grew as around the room people shifted nervously as his sudden appearance clearly wrong-footed them. Had they honestly expected him to stay in that damn cupboard licking his wounds?

His smile was a little strained as he rounded the table and set the second cup of coffee in front of his intended victim/mark for the day. Janice McCann as he now knew her to be from his frenzied perusal of her dossier.

A MP for the last four years, first elected in a by-election seat that was a safe nationalist vote winner and so had really been ignored by the main parties in Westminster; re-elected during the last general election she had campaigned on a farming first platform after being the agricultural correspondent for some Glasgow newspaper. Other than her staunch clique of supporters and pretty face the main reason Malcolm could discern she had been selected to front part of this campaign was the glamourous connection of her Scottish footballer husband.

Never underestimate the pull of celebrity, even a dried up has been, and besides it wasn't like there was anyone better available.

Even Malcolm had heard of Jackie McCann the once popular Hearts striker and Scotland hero who had scored in that legendary match against England; the one match that all true Scots still bragged about. Now retired he worked as a sports pundits on one of those Saturday afternoon football shows that were so popular with some people.

There was only one son, surprising for a Catholic family, named for his father. A promising footballer in his own right, in training signed to the Hearts under 18 team and a probable candidate for a place in the Scotland under 18 squad this summer.

So far so good.

This he could promote, on paper at least. Malcolm didn't have to like or even respect the people he worked with. He had learned that lesson the hard way after all, that even the people you think are at least indebted to you, if they aren't exactly friends, will eventually turn and stick a knife in your back.

Malcolm wasn't here to make friends, he was here to do a job and even if Janice McCann was twice the piece of fluff dunderhead he was used to dealing there was enough here for Malcolm to work with…well providing she could at least do as she was told and didn't try to actually inject her own ideas.

"It's kind but I'm afraid I don't drink coffee Mr…"

"Please call me Malcolm." Malcolm insisted his smile setting like rigor mortis as the damn bitch had the nerve to hand over the bloody expensive coffee he could ill afford at the moment to her dumpy assistant who eyed it greedily and ruined the damn thing with too much sugar before Malcolm could so much as protest.

"We were just talking about the plans for the next few weeks Malcolm." Janice continued on as best she could, unable to stop the accustomed feelings inadequacy that surged to the surface as Mr Malcolm Tucker continued to study her like a bug under the microscope and judging by his expression his reflections were less than flattering.

"Excellent I can't wait to hear it but I feel I have an apology to make first…" He paused, his fist clenching involuntarily before he forced it to relax and set down a crisp twenty, ten and five pound note on the table. "Yesterday was a trying day but I should have controlled myself better, I hope we can put it behind us and start afresh?"

For a moment the blue eyed bitch stared down at the money he had left on the table before raising those soul piercing eyes of hers to stare right back at him, and Malcolm couldn't help but swallow a sudden build-up of nervous spit. Then the damn bitch reached out and picked it up, folding up the money and handing it over to her assistant with a smile.

"Apology accepted. Carol could you?"

She actually took it. Malcolm was certain he would be calling her bluff.

"Right now let's make a start."

Stunned Malcolm sank down into the nearest empty seat.

The bloody bitch.

That was not how this game was played. He apologised. He THE Malcolm Fucking Tucker apologised. The least the bloody harpy could have done was to let him off the sodding fine as a gesture of good fucking will.

"I think the ideas you've all come up with…"

"I am sure they have done their best." Malcolm cut in, unable to help himself; it was the most he could do to stop himself from scoffing as he took in the flipchart and their proposed itinerary.

The hospital…women's refuge…local college…Dear god it was all so 1980's…

"However this is why I was hired so why don't I show you what I've come up with…" He left the suggestion that there might even be an option of choice drop like a stone.

Dropping his folder down on the desk with a slap Malcolm drew out the proposal he had spent hours on, sliding a copy across the desk to where Janice sat primly her hands folded neatly in front of her and Malcolm had to suppress a snort as the idea that she probably sat like that in bed sprung to mind…No wonder she and the football whiz kid only had one child…Malcolm couldn't imagine anything less alluring.

Glancing down at the detailed listing Janice couldn't help but blanch.

"I don't think some of these are quite…I have a job to do Mr Tucker I can't go off and do reality television."

Well that one had been a long shot, a way of getting rid of her for an extended period of time, but a man could dream…and besides it would probably have backfired as he was certain the woman's less than sparkling personality would have bored the viewer's anyway.

"It was a longshot." Malcolm shrugged striking a line through it. "But you have to find a new platform to reach out and grab people by the balls if you want them to listen to you. You need to be seen as champion, a voice of the people, not a bunch of boring old farts whose idea of a good time is sitting around sharing knitting patterns."

Flinching as the vulgarity once again reared its head Janice tried her best to find something positive about this new and frankly overtly in your face campaigning. She knew how to deal with people one on one, she knew how to stand and pose for photographers but making people listen to her had always been something she had struggled with.

"I'm not sure I am comfo…"

"Do you want to fucking win or don't you?" Malcolm snapped unable bite his tongue as this meek little mouse continued to press his buttons. Where was the irritating but resolute woman who had confronted him yesterday?

"This is not fucking playschool darling, people out there don't care about sharing or playing fair." He added prodding his dossier aggressively. "You want your turn in the sandpit then get out there and push the other bastards out of the way, throw sand in their face, give them a wedgie, whatever it bloody well takes to get your message out there."

"Please Mr Tucker. I know we are in politics but can we take this out of the gutter! I simply can't work with you if you keep using language like that."

"Better!" Malcolm snorted a smug smile playing about his lips. "See you do have it in you. I was wondering where that stubborn streak had gotten to."

Realising she had been goaded Janice could feel the blush burning on her cheeks. Dear God it was so embarrassing being played by this man and in front of her team as well.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Newsflash Darling I am not nice but…." Malcolm paused…"I am good, very good at what I do. And you really want to win this fucking thing I am the man that can make it happen."

-/-


	3. Chapter 3

Day 5: 14:30 PM (Just outside of Stirling)  
\---

At least the bloody woman took a good photograph.

Standing at the back of the surprisingly large crowd that had gathered Malcolm couldn't but smile as he watched Janice McCann try and maintain her usual poised smile as she balanced precariously on a tall stool under a gunge tank of luminous green goo. Ankles still crossed primly, so no one could see her knickers, even though the hospital had been wise enough to have a suitable bodysuit available which made said thing impossible unless you have x-ray vision. Not that Malcolm was looking...he wasn't...no...

That was if she was even...no that was a train of thought he would be going down...It was just his job as a PR man to ensure that the newspapers got good photographs just not photographs that plastered Janice McCann's fucking knickers on the front page of every tabloid.

It was all in good fun after all and for charity and Malcolm had already gotten some measure of his own back for the bloody swear box. So what if he hadn't given her choice either way...

Although maybe he should have mentioned it before they had arrived?

No who was he kidding the expression on Janice face's as he had broken the news to her in front of the event manager of the hospital fundraiser had been something to fucking relish. That look of politely frozen horror and panic that she tried to mask under a strained smile as the public bid higher and higher amounts to be the person to get to dunk a politician. 

He would be paying for it later, Malcolm knew he would probably have to suffer through those doe eyes staring at him accusingly...oh but it was worth it...he had to find someway of getting his own back after all. Fifty quid. Fifty f..fucking quid he could ill afford at the moment that woman and her bloody bank of censorship had stolen from him. 

Dear god the bloody woman almost had him censoring his own thoughts.

Fuck her...fuck her and her tight prudish bitch cu...

A sudden splash cut Malcolm's internal vent off and he cursed himself for having missed it. Damn it all to buggery, that bloody woman even ruined his fun when she wasn't doing it deliberately. Still he did get to see a gunk coated Janice stagger out of the booth, her once immaculately quaffed hair now hanging wet and plastered to her face, mascara had run a little but...dammit...

The newspapers that had been invited snapped away as Janice McCann actually laughed and smiled and allowed the good looking young man, who had been the one to gunge her in the end, to help her out of the deep tank. Then she stood and posed for another photograph with him and some suitable sick, but not too sick they looked ugly, children and the hospital's chief exec as the papers snapped away like crazy.

It was the result Malcolm had wanted; noted politician sending themselves up on behalf of drive to save local hospital from having shut down much needed services got headlines. It pulled together both policy and humanitarian aspects of the parties campaign oh and he got to knock Mrs Hoity Toity down several pegs. Yet Malcolm hadn't anticipated Janice would actually enjoy it and that alone soured his good mood.

She was supposed to hate this.

It hadn't taken Malcolm more than five minutes in her company to notice how fastidious Janice was. She would rearrange things on the desk to make sure they were in horizontal lines, would fuss with her hair or shirt collar if either got more than a fraction out of place. It had taken a few more hours of study before he was certain of his diagnosis.

OCD...Obsessive compulsive disorder. Textbook case.

This little publicity stunt should have sent Janice McCann into a full on public meltdown. Either refusing to participate, and leaving the hospital to drag in whatever B-list celerity they had on hand to fill the slot, or by going through with it and throwing a nice little freak out for the papers to capture.

Just a way to show a wee thank you for Jamie and his boys, and a way for Malcolm to prove he still had it in him.

Only Janice bloody McCann had the nerve not to play to the bloody script and now she had him doubting his own judgement!

Stalking across the the leisure centre hall Malcolm tried to force his face into some approximation of a pleasant expression. Yet from the reaction of a small red headed toddler who burst into tears upon crossing his path Malcolm guessed he was somewhat out of practice.

Yet who could really blame him, faced with eviction from his hotel if he didn't settle his mounting bill, with an ex-wife's attorney badging him for alimony payments and a bank balance that required life support?

Pushing his way through the crowd Malcolm tried to follow the clucking group of hens that were quickly ushering Janice away from the people trying to shake her hand and out through a side door. Yet when Malcolm tried to follow he found his way blocked by an large wall of ginger and freckle.

"VIP's only." The wall actually spoke and Malcolm did his best to limit the sarcasm down to primate level, there was no point in being so erudite that people failed to realise you had insulted them.

"Fucking move out of my way or I'll have you cashiered down to scrubbing the urinals with your toothbrush." Malcolm growled all spittle and wild eyes and the ginger mountain actually stepped back. 

"I mean I just need to see your pass Sir." The young man stuttered.

Waving his photo ID under the ginger-nut's nose Malcolm levelled his best Tucker glare, the gaze that had turned grown men into mewling babies crying for their mothers. Fortunately the security guard stepped aside before Malcolm had to reach into his back pocket for his reserve of vitriol.

Storming through the double doors Malcolm barely paused when he practically bowled over one of the other celebrities, some no named author whose name Malcolm didn't care to remember. 

"Excuse me could you tell me where I could find Janice...Janice McCann." The weasley looking english runt asked and Malcolm was amazed that the little turd had found the balls to even speak to him.

"No I can't now fuck off." Malcolm spat back, relishing the look of polite shock as the fair haired man backed away and fiddled with his glasses...like Malcolm would bother wasting a punch on a little prick like him.

Pushing him out the way Malcolm didn't even pause to utter a fake apology striding down the hall trying to find where his politician had vanished too. They had a timetable to stick to after all and Malcolm knew the only way that would happen was if he was there to fucking make it happen.

It had only been five days and already Janice McCann was driving him slowly insane, he really wasn't cut out for fucking babysitting.

Well he would just have to think of something else, something that couldn't fail. The sooner he did his job and sunk this ship, the sooner he could be back where he belonged...on top...and the memories of these few days would only be a nightmare that would quickly fade.

\---/---


	4. Chapter 4

Day 7: Evening fundraiser event Yes Scotland (Glasgow)

\---

“…No one, absolutely no one, will do a better job of running Scotland than the people who live and work in Scotland. From the farmer to the nurse, we have the opportunity of a lifetime if we can only find the courage to take it and looking around this room tonight I think we have.”

Smiling in a polite forced manner Janice McCann had suppress tears of relief as the audience cheered and clapped. As much as she found working with Malcolm Tucker difficult in the extreme Janice couldn’t deny the man was far better with words than she had any hope of ever being. This was his speech she had learned, had poured over with Malcolm’s beady blue grey gaze burning into her as he reminded her over and over again in that vulgar manner of his that she better not f…mess this up.

Like she needed him to tell her that. Her nights had already been plagued by nightmares galore of forgetting her words, or the crowd heckling or once even a giant Malcolm Tucker glaring and pointing down at her jeering. Even now as she smiled and accepted the congratulations of her audience she could still feel those eyes boring into her, judging her and finding her wanting.

Janice hated speaking in front of a large group of people, to have them staring at her judging her words, it was the one thing about being an MP that she hated. Yet she did it because she had to, because it was her job and at least when she was talking about something she passionately believed in people seemed to listen. There had been far too many years of her life when it seemed nothing she said was listened to at all, when all she was valued for was her pretty face, good figure and ability to put food on the table.

She had ceased to be Janice a person who was worth something in her own right and had become Mrs Jackie McCann, her entire worth was judged by the man she had naively married at eighteen and he…he…didn’t give a damn…

It had taken a long time, years, far too long for Janice to realise that her husband didn’t love her. 

At first she had been wrapped up in the idea of being in love and she had absolved Jackie of all the insensitive little things he had done that had hurt her…getting drunk at their wedding…groping her sister who was her bridesmaid…going out with the boys and staying out all night even when she was heavily pregnant with wee Jackie.

When her family had questioned why Jackie never turned up to birthday parties or did anything special for their anniversary she made excuses for him…he was busy…he had training, even when all he was doing was sleeping off a hangover. He was her husband and her loyalty was to him, it had to be, she had made vows to love honour and obey after all.

Glancing across to her table it wasn’t hard to pick out Jackie’s slumped figure at their table, he was already far into his cups and Janice could only shiver in fear of just what her husband might get up to if he continued drinking that this pace. So far he was still in his amiable drunk phase, holding court amongst a bunch of admirers as he recalled his days of glory. Yet Janice knew it would only take one less than glowing remark to get his back up and without her there to mitigate the situation who knew how it could erupt.

Yet right now she had a job to do and if she failed to do it properly she would have to deal with Malcom’s ire on top of a drunk Jackie. So Janice allowed herself to be handled, to pose for photographs with the right people, shake and schmooze as Malcom called it. It was so false, so not the person the politician she wanted to be and yet Janice had learnt in her last four years that often to be able to do things you wanted it meant having to put up with things she didn’t.

God knows after seventeen years of marriage she knew that back to front.

Even after the foolish mistake she had made with Martin and then Rab Janice had once held a lingering hope that there might be something left to salvage from her marriage. She had tried, yet it seemed no matter what she did to try and make Jackie happy all she did was irritate him and then one day she had returned home earlier than expected from the health club and found Jackie with some sixteen year old strumpet polishing the dining room table…a sixteen year old male strumpet.

Any lingering love she had held in her heart for her husband had died that day.

Jackie had begged her not to leave him and Janice had agreed for the sake of wee Jackie. 

Her son was her world and the last thing he needed was word to get out that his Dad was a…was a…well that he liked both men and women. Her husband’s footballing career might have been at an end but her son’s was just beginning and as unfair as it might be a scandal like that might derail young Jackie McCanns career before it even began.

Her new career was the second reason she stayed. 

Divorce was against everything she had been brought up to believe, and along with it would come awkward questions as to why after seventeen years of marriage she was leaving her famous handsome husband. So Jackie and her had come to an awkward understanding, she kept her silence and lived in Edinburgh during the week and he kept his whores out of their family home. At the weekend he was away commentating on matches or sitting on the pundit panel for Sky and so weeks even months could now pass when they were barely in each other’s company for more than five minutes at a time.

Of course there were the awkward events that required them to act the happy couple, wee Jackie's games and the occasional social event. It wasn’t difficult since Janice had been acting the devoted wife for most of their marriage and Jackie had been acting the faithful husband for much longer.

Even so she still needed a break, before having to face her estranged husband, a moment to gather herself and reassemble her mask. Yet the moment she broke away from her handler Malcom was swooping down, those thick eyebrows of his drawn together in a deep frown.

“We are on a tight schedule.” Malcolm all but growled in her ear. “We’ve got thirty more minutes here before you can even think of leaving.”

“I know.” Janice huffed, for once not in the mood to put up with his bullying tactics. “But am I at least allowed to powder my nose? Or am I simply expected to cross my legs?”

For a moment it actually looked like Malcolm was going to argue the point, glancing between his watch and the neatly typed out schedule for the evening. “Five minutes not a second longer or I will come in and find you.”

And Janice didn’t doubt he would, still she embraced the few solitary moments to herself, rushing on her stilettos to the ladies bathroom and sighing in relief when it was blessedly empty. After quickly using the facilities she washed her hands and quickly filled the sink with cold water. Dipping a paper towel into the cold water she wiped away the lingering itchy dried sweat that had gathered at the nape of her neck, in the crease of her elbows.

If she couldn’t learn to enjoy speaking in public she could certainly do her best to cover up the signs of how much she hated it.

Studying her reflection critically in the mirror Janice winced as she caught sight of the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. She was getting old. She was a mother of a sixteen year old. Yet as she stepped back and smoothed her hands over the fitted red dress she had to wonder if most mothers of sixteen year olds had managed to keep in this shape. 

Exercising and eating like a bird had once been something Janice had enforced in order to avoid being an embarrassment to Jackie. Even now with her marriage a mere charade the habits of old refused to die. She had substituted tennis at the health club for the gym in the basement of her apartment building, and cooking for her family for feeding the campaign office, Janice knew that Carol blamed her for at least a stone of her weight gain and still Janice could stop.

On the surface it might look like she had everything right now but underneath Janice knew she was only ever one or two steps from falling apart.

The sharp rapping on the bathroom door had Janice frowning until she caught sight of her reflection and the wrinkles it caused. Resisting the urge to call Malcolm something truly unladylike Janice forced herself to smile before pushing open the door.

Only it wasn’t Malcolm Tucker on the other side amazingly it was somebody Janice wanted to see even less than her foul mouthed tormentor.

“Martin.” She stuttered stunned by the sudden reappearance of her one time lover who looked up and down the corridor nervously before launching himself in her direction.

Squeaking in horror as his lips crushed against her own and forced Janice back against the bathroom door it took a good few moments for her brain to unfreeze and she tried unsuccessfully to push Martin away.

“Well well well when you said you wanted a break I didn’t realise it was to slip your fucking tongue down some randoms throat!” The derision in Malcolm’s tone was palpable and Janice cringed automatically even as Martin finally released her to step back and fuss with his glasses.

“I’ll have you know I am…”

“I don’t give a flying fuck who you are sweetheart. If fact why don’t you make somebody happy, mind your own business.” Malcom sneered his blue grey eyes barely gracing the English fop with more than a glance; his ire was reserved for Janice alone. “In fact now would be an excellent time to become a missing person.” He added pushing Janice back into the bathroom Malcolm took particular pleasure in slamming the door in the stuttering Englishman’s face.

“What the fuck were you doing? Did you even think of the consequences?” Malcolm demanded slapping his hand sharply against his clipboard causing Janice to flinch. “What if someone had caught you with your hand down his pants, what if it had been a member of the press?”

“I didn’t…”

“You didn’t think that’s clearly what you didn’t do!” Malcolm continued pacing around the ladies bathroom running his hands through his silver grey hair. “I mean I always assumed you were more looks than brains but I didn’t realise you had the IQ of lint! There is a room full of bloody press out there not to mention that drooling drunk you call a husband. ”

“He kissed me!” Janice exclaimed hotly unable to hold onto her temper in the light of Malcolm’s insults and unfair accusations. “I just walked out of the bathroom and he was throwing himself at me, I certainly didn’t want him to.”

“What?” Malcolm was momentarily shocked out of his rant, finally taking a moment to look at Janice, looking her up and down Malcolm pushed aside the thought that it her dress fitted her quite nicely noting that for a woman involved in a snog fest she barely looked rumpled that was true and the look of fury on her face was a difficult one to fake.

“I haven’t even seen him in years.” Janice continued her hands shaking as she automatically reached into her handbag for a cigarette, a guilty habit she still hadn’t managed to kick and one she resorted to when badly stressed.

“So you do know him?” Malcolm needled his eyes pinning her down. “The truth please Mrs McCann how am I supposed limit the damage if I don’t know the facts.”

Lighting her cigarette Janice could only nod. “He’s name is Martin Logan he’s an author.”

“And?” Malcolm prodded it was like pulling bloody teeth. 

Swallowing down a lungful of calming smoke Janice couldn’t meet that knowing gaze. “We had a brief affair…”

“Oh for fucks sake.” Malcolm sneered. “You had an affair…You!”

In the last few days Malcolm had been forced into continued close contact with Janice McCann, from her ever fixed smile, to her incessant baking...dear god the bloody office was always full of food and it drove him insane just the smell of it. And she was always so nice to everyone, even the cleaner, hell she was still nice to him when she was ripping him off and forcing him to handover his hard earned cash in forfeit for his potty mouth even then the bloody woman did it in a polite manner.

It was like she wasn't even human. Only it turned out little Miss Perfect was only too human after all and Malcolm could barely admit to himself he was disappointed.

“You 'fucked a man that wasn’t your husband affair'?” Malcolm clarified unable to believe what he was hearing.

Malcolm was used to politicians, he had spent most of his damn career bailing them out of the little messes their power crazed pea brains got themselves into. He despised them for their stupidity and their hypocrisy. They claimed to be in politics to help, to serve, but when push came to shove between their pet policy and a position in cabinet Malcolm had never seen a politician turn that red box down. Not that Malcolm was completely immune from these faults, yet he wasn't so much as a hypocrite to exclude himself from his own contempt.

Besides he had never claimed to be anything other than he was...a foul mouthed  
cunt with brains and a talent for making up stories. In another life he might have been a fine author, if it paid better and he could find the patience to sit at a desk for longer than five minutes.

“You prance about acting like Mother Theresa…” Malcolm began only for his own words to fail him.

"It was years ago." Janice insisted tugging at her fingernails as she brought her cigarette up for another drag. "Only a few weeks, nothing serious."

"Nothing fucking serious, oh well why not take a full page spread in the Daily Mail then?" Malcolm drawled sarcasm dripping from his every word. "Scotland's leading lady likes to get banged by a bit of English but don't worry boys it isn't something serious!"

"Stop it!"

"No I am not going to fucking stop it, not until you get it through that pretty painted head of yours how completely screwed you would be if this ever got out." Malcolm paused frowning as something suddenly occurred to him. "So why has the piece of bum fluff suddenly turned up again if it's been years since you've seen him?"

"I don't know it wasn't like I had any opportunity to ask." Janice bit back testily surprised when Malcolm nodded before slamming the door open once more and dragging a still hovering Martin in by the lapels of his dinner jacket.

"Right Marlon..."

"It's Martin actually..."

"Rent boy it could be bloody Marilyn and I still wouldn't give two fucks." Malcolm hissed as he rammed the stammering author back against the wall. "Who the fuck are you working for hmm?"

"What?...Janice who is this oaf?"

"Oaf?" Malcolm laughed. "I am your worst fucking nightmare, I am the thing that monsters have nightmares about. Now I am only going to ask you one more time then I am going to shove that fucking hideous rug you are wearing up your arse hole before shoving it down your lying English throat."

Blushing bright red either from the imagery or the accusation he was wearing a toupee Martin turned pleadingly to Janice only to have this gruff uncouth Glaswegian block his view.

"I'm not lying and I don't have to explain myself to you. Janice will you please explain to this..this..person..."

"Sorry would you like that translating into something simpler?" Malcolm retorted lifting his knee and accidentally bashing the bumbling balding boy wonder in the bollocks, relishing both his pathetic cry and Janice's gasp."You don't grab girls, you don't harass or molest women, you also don't lie to a man who can read bullshit at a hundred paces."

"...the standard..." Martin managed to gasp out in between whimpers of pain. 

Curling his lip Malcolm wasn't sure which disgusted him more that this gob of shite existed or that he had slumped so low in the political sphere that only a piece of local trash like the standard were interested. Pushing away the mewling baby Malcolm let him drop to the floor, tugging on his own suit jacket to smooth out his attire.

"That's better, now what exactly did you tell them?"

"About our affair." Martin spluttered, "they were reviewing my new book and I saw a picture of Janice they were featuring in an editorial.."

"Spare me the lame dick details you ponce, so you bragged your britches off. And let me guess they were interested in buying the story?"

Nodding Martin could only stare at the floor. "Only I didn't have any proof, they said it would be my word against hers...so they weren't going to go ahead with it...so.."

"So you thought why not come back for another bite of the cherry and net yourself a nice little payout and some free publicity for what ever trashy novel you were peddling this time." Malcolm didn't need an answer, this wasn't his first ride around this little merry-go-round. 

"Well that isn't going to happen sunny Jim now do you need me to write that down on a fucking post it note and staple it to your forehead or can you take the hint to fuck off and crawl somewhere dark and quiet to stew in your own bile and piss?"

Not waiting for an answer Malcolm retrieved his clipboard from the floor and stepped over the still slumped Martin, turning back he surprised Janice by offering her his hand to follow him. He may not be a gentleman by anyone's definition but that didn't make him an arsehole, and the last thing he fucking needed right now was her to fall over this twat in those shoes and twist her fucking ankle or something.

Once safely out in the corridor he dropped her hand like a scalded cat and ignoring all of Janice's efforts almost made it back to the safety of the dining room before she could stop him.

"Thank you Malcolm. I know we didn't hit it off..."

"Don't fucking thank me for doing my job darling." Malcolm retorted cutting Janice off before she could start bawling on him or something. "Now go in there and do yours."

Then with one final glance at his watch and disrupted schedule he stalked back into the room leaving a blessedly silent Janice McCann to follow meekly in his wake.

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	5. Chapter 5

Mini update enjoy 

 

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Day 9: 22.00pm (The shoebox that doubled as Malcolm’s office)

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He was a complete bastard.

Leaning back in the back pain inducing plastic chair in his pathetic cupboard of an office Malcolm ripped through the skin of his tangerine, shoving the juice rich flesh into his mouth and sucking it savagely. Scowling down at the pay as you go phone he used to contact Jamie on Malcolm waited impatiently for an acknowledgement of his message.

“Come the fuck on…” He growled under his breath as he glared down at the cheap little phone. Not knowing what answer he would prefer right now.

It was a dick move leaking the story of Janice’s past affair with Martin Logan, but Malcolm had been pushed beyond the limit that even he was prepared to accept. He needed her out of the way now not next week, he needed to move into a more central position in the campaign’s PR structure if he was ever going to be privy to the information he needed to properly sabotage the Yes camp and secure that six figure Head of PR job he had been promised.

Janice McCann’s career and marriage were merely collateral damage in a much larger war and in a way it was either her or him and Malcolm wasn’t a hypocrite, he would always choose to put himself first. Still that didn’t mean he didn’t have a lingering shred of humanity left, enough to feel a little guilty for the shit storm that was about to hit the unsuspecting Janice.

He hadn’t intended to use it, not at first.

It wasn’t even particularly interesting as scandals went and whilst at Westminster this sort of thing was as common as Oxbridge accents. It also wouldn’t make too big of a splash in political terms, who the fuck knew who Janice McCann was? Now if it had been either of the big fish it would be another matter.

Of course in Scotland cheating on a national footballing hero with an Englishman…

Wincing as he imaged the headlines and the vitriol that would be coming Janice’s way in the next few days Malcolm allowed himself to feel a little guilty before one glance at the packed suitcase he had hidden underneath his desk reminded him quite pointedly why he had been pushed to this point. It was the last straw when Malcolm Tucker was forced to sleep in his cupboard of an office.

God it was pathetic; unthinkable how far he had fallen.

Back at Westminster it wouldn’t be unheard of to catch political officials napping on their office sofa, with very long hours and even longer commutes it was accepted if not particularly approved off for people to literally live in their offices. Yet Malcolm was being forced into staying in this hole not by business necessity but because the cash funds had finally run dry.

He had managed to scrape together the money needed to pay his outstanding hotel bill and meet his other commitments; Malcolm had been certain he could have survived until his next pay day if it hadn’t been for that unexpected tax bill. His damn accountant would be getting an earful of the trademark Tucker abuse if the little sneak hadn’t slipped off to Bermuda and if Malcolm could actually have afforded the calls to track the lying sack of shit down.

Instead he was homeless, broke and unable to fucking complain about it to anyone.

Taking his muted frustration out on the soft fruit was the only outlet Malcolm had right now, that and glaring at the damn phone waiting for some sort of acknowledgement.

Huffing Malcolm shrugged off his jacket and unfastened his tie, hanging both on the back of his chair before kicking off his shoes and rummaging in his bag for the towel he had swiped from the hotel and his wash kit. Just as he was about to leave the room and sneak downstairs to use the shower the phone buzzed, reaching over he flipped the screen open and typed in his password, a smiley face.

A fucking smiley face…

Curling his lip in disgust Malcolm shoved the offending phone back into his pocket, the need for a shower suddenly more pressing than ever. Yet Malcolm doubted this crappy would even be able to rid him of the grime of the day let alone the sudden dirty feeling that he was trying desperately to shrug off.

It was just a fucking job, she was just a pretty dumb idiot, he didn’t even remotely like her. Janice McCann was a vapid, irritating, neurotic screw up of the first order. She made some of the Westminster Ministers look like competent politicians and that was saying something. She actually fucking cared about what she did, it was only a matter of time before somebody taught her about the real world of politics.

So really he was doing her favour…she could get out now before all the compromise destroyed her…go back to her baking and her spa days and leave politics to people who realised that it was only those prepared to get down and roll in the mud that belonged there.

Now perhaps if he repeated that often enough Malcolm might actually convince himself of it.

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	6. Chapter 6

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Day 11: 19.25 pm Campaign headquarters Janice’s office

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So that was it. As she watched her boss leave without even a backward glance Janice knew her career was over.

Sinking down into her desk chair and kicking off her aching shoes Janice resisted the urge to put her forehead down on the table top and let the tears that were threatening leak free. No she had to be stronger than that. Besides her tears would probably cause the ink from the newspapers to run and then she would have their unflattering remarks branded across her face just as they were dragging her name and her image through the mud.

Hearing a knock on the door Janice rubbed her hands quickly over her hair out of reflex more than anything before bidding whoever was waiting to enter. Yet of all the people who she had been expecting to come in and check on her Malcolm Tucker had certainly not been on the list. He almost seemed human for once; his expression pinched in what looked like an approximation of concern as he stepped inside and closed the door on whoever else was thronging about in hope of some gossip.

“So is it as bad as it could get?”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic restraint Janice could only nod, this time blinking away the tears that threatened, embarrassed by her own lack of restraint. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t…”

“No for what’s worth I’m sorry.” Malcolm muttered surprising himself that he actually meant it.

It didn’t mean he regretted…no that wasn’t entirely truthful, he did regret that it was Janice he had to sacrifice on his way back up the ladder but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it again if necessary just that next time it would be easier if it were someone else…someone less…less Janice… 

Despite her swear box and her lack of political charisma Janice McCann wasn’t even the worst politician he had ever had to work with. Deluded as she was Janice at least cared about something other than herself, which was a change from the career narcissists he was used to looking after.

“It probably won’t be as bad as you think.” Malcolm tried again, wracking his brain for anything remotely comforting, not that he had any particular experience of trying to comfort anyone but if trying made this closed up feeling in his throat go away…

“I’ve been relieved of my position in the party and I need to go before my local party membership to explain myself and offer to tender my resignation.” Janice retorted laughing even through the pain.

“Half of the country are calling me a whore and the other half a hypocrite.” She added raising piercing blue eyes to pin a squirming Malcolm in place. “Please tell me where the silver lining in all of this is?”

“Well you won’t have to get up in front of an audience and pretend to enjoy it anymore.” Malcolm countered, Janice’s little laugh and half smile stabbing him in the lingering shreds of his conscience.

“Besides these things blow over far quicker than you might believe, it may look like your career is over now but just look at some of those Westminster comebacks, five years ago no one would have predicted they would make it back into politics after being caught carrying on with their secretaries…”

“They were all men.” Janice reminded him gently, a bitter smile pulling at their lips. “I know you think I got my brains at the end of season sale Malcolm but I am not an idiot, I know I’m finished.”

Opening his mouth to counter her argument Malcolm could only sigh, it wasn’t like she was wrong now was it? It wasn’t fair but there was a double standard in society. A man had an affair and unless his wife was some model of beauty and virtue his dalliance would eventually be explained away and excused, now if a woman did the same thing then regardless of how miserable her marriage she would be forever branded a cheat and whore.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right but it was the way things were.

“I think I could almost bear it if it was just my career or even my marriage.” Janice added picking at the newspapers that littered her desk, wincing as she caught sight of the accusing headlines and unflattering pictures. “But my son won’t even talk to me. I’ve tried calling but it goes straight to voicemail.”

“He’s young, he’s in shock.” Malcolm tried his guilt multiplying the longer he lingered and yet he couldn’t just walk out and leave her in this state, he had to find some way to do something to help, even if it was just to make himself feel better. “He will get over it.”

“He’s playing this weekend you know against Ireland.” Janice couldn’t help the pride that filled her voice when she spoke about her son. “His first under-eighteen international, even if it’s only a friendly and I can’t help but worry what people will say. He’s not even seventeen yet he shouldn’t have to hear the crowd yelling out that his mother is a whore.”

Wincing at the broken way she called herself a whore Malcolm felt something insides himself twist and break. “Stop it you are not to call yourself that!” He snapped jarring Janice out of her introspection.

“Why not everyone else is?”

“Then everyone else can go fuck themselves!” Malcolm added tartly, relieved when Janice still flinched at his foul mouth. Reaching into his pocket he retrieved a precious one pound coin setting it down on her desktop. A peace offering, the last one he could make.

“You know I’m not exactly your boss any longer I can’t go enforcing any rules.” Janice remarked pushing the coin around idly on the wooden surface. “That should save you a fortune.”

“Aye well there is that.” Malcolm remarked dryly, surprised when Janice pushed herself up out of her chair and walked around the desk. Malcom started as she suddenly took hold of his hand and he felt the warmth of her little fingers prising open his grip before placing the pound coin back in them and closing his long fingers over the top.

“Buy yourself a frothy coffee on me.” Janice added by way of explanation as she flicked her eyes up to stare up into Malcolm eyes, they were quite a lovely colour all blue and grey and hints of green when they weren’t glaring laser beams into you. It seemed Malcolm Tucker had a soft underbelly after all.

“You know that won’t even cover a fraction of it.” Malcolm choked back, he wasn’t sure if it was his unaccustomed guilt or the surprising warmth of her little hand on his own but he was suddenly hot. He could feel the blaze making its way up his neck and soon it would be emblazoned across his cheeks for all to see and yet he couldn’t find the strength to break her gaze.

Those eyes…her eyes were almost florescent they were so blue…how hadn’t he noticed that before?

Blinking as he tried to shake off this bizarre spell Janice seemed to have cast over him, first feeling guilt, now rendering him mute Malcolm reached for something to break the build-up of tension. Blinking again this time in bemusement as he realised just how he was craning his neck down to meet her gaze.

“Fuck woman you are short!” Malcolm barked, his gaze now running freely up and down Janice’s body and noting the lack of shoes. “You’re practically a bloody midget without those heels of yours.”

Growling at him Janice dropped his hand and balled hers into a fist which she batted his chest with playfully. “I am not a midget! You are just a bloody beanstalk Mr Tucker!”

“B…Was that a swear word Ms McCann?” Malcolm gasped in genuine surprise and delight, relishing the way Janice actually blushed a grown woman blushing over a simple swear word and not even a terrible one at that.

“And now you’re as red as a tomato!” He gloated gleefully unable to resist needling her further. “God forbid you ever swore properly, I think your head would explode if you ever uttered the word cXXX…”

It had been an instinctive reaction. Her hand flying up to cover Malcolm’s mouth before he could finish that sentence and utter that word. Only now she could feel his mouth under her palm, his lips still finishing his sentence as they brushed against her skin and Janice shivered in a deadly mixture of horror and attraction.

For a moment they could both only stare at each other in surprise and dawning knowledge.

He wanted her.

In this moment Malcolm Tucker was forced to admit he wanted nothing more than to reach down and wrap his arms around Janice McCann’s midget waist and pull that deliciously curved body against his own. And what was more surprising was that she would probably let him, Malcolm would never consider himself a playboy but even so he knew what it meant when a woman’s eyes darkened like that.

God he wanted to, already he could feel his gaze dropping to those perfectly painted lips of hers, lips that Janice was biting down on and driving him to distraction even as they were offered up to him…it would be so easy to just…

Then the reminder of why they couldn’t and what part he had played in bringing that situation about hit him like a punch to the stomach.

No…No…what sort of sick fuck was he?

Gently as he could Malcolm pushed the leaning Janice back before quickly stepping back himself and putting some much needed distance between them.

As heat suddenly dissipated as Malcolm spurned her clumsy advances Janice felt her own cheeks burn in horror and mortification. Now he must really think she was a whore after all, throwing herself at him like that. At least Malcolm had some sense left, no wonder he called her out on her lack of brains.

“I’m sorry.” It was small and pathetic sounding and Janice hated the way she could hear tears in her voice, turning her back to Malcolm so that he was spared having to see just how pathetic she really was.

“No I…” Malcolm choked, now so consumed by the feelings of his own total bastardness. The poor woman had been through enough at his hand. He couldn’t use her that way as well and it was better a small hurt now than a larger hurt later. “Look it’s been a difficult few days let’s just...”

“Thank you.”

Nodding Malcolm guiltily accepted her thanks. “Well I guess I won’t be seeing you for a while?” He added shuffling uncomfortably as he backpedalled towards the door. The sooner he was able to escape and put Janice McCann and her emotive blue eyes behind him the sooner Malcolm could rid himself of this uncomfortably tightness in his chest.

“Yes.” Janice nodded, forcing herself to compose and at least pretend to be professional at least until he left. “I’m going to head back to Glasgow for a while and try and sort out this mess…I suppose you’ll be given my successor to manage I am sure they’ll give you an easier time of it.”

“Yes well it’s been a pleas….”

“Don’t lie to me Malcolm Tucker.” Janice chided a shadow of her former smile playing about her lips. “It’s been educational at least.” She added relieved when Malcolm was able to meet her gaze.

“It has at that.” Malcolm conceded. “Now I really should be going, I have a lot of work to do before tomorrow…do you want me to get security to walk you out?” He added as despite the lateness of the hour there would undoubtedly be a pack of hungry paparazzi lying in wait to accost her.

“Please….Oh and could you give these to Carol.” Janice added before Malcolm could vanish, retrieving her purse and pulling out a small set of house keys.

“They’re for my Edinburgh flat.” She added when Malcolm looked at them quizzically. “She pops by and checks on it when I am out of town for more than a few days.”

Accepting the keys Malcolm slipped them into his jacket pocket before reaching out and catching Janice’s hand, holding it gently between his own for a moment. Then before his will failed him Malcolm turned and left, refusing to look back.

He had made his choice and now he was just going to have to learn to live with it.

\---/---


	7. Chapter 7

Another mini update

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Day 13: Malcolm’s cupboard 23.25pm

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He should have expected it, after all this wasn’t Westminster where people worked practically twenty four hours seven days a week. In the end it was probably a good job that he was actually still working and not yet sleeping; only having kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket on the back of his chair when there was a sharp rapping on his cupboard door.

“I’m sorry to bother you Mr Tucker but we are looking to lock up for the weekend.” The security guard hovered awkwardly on the threshold, glancing down at his watch in what was a hopeful manner that set Malcolm’s teeth on edge.

A weekend, Malcolm had forgotten what one of those was. Yet there was no getting away with hiding away in his office and hoping he would be overlooked. Not this weekend. It was Burns Night on Sunday and in the Scottish calendar this was on a par with New Year’s Eve. As a result half the country was getting ready to make merry…well all except a recently repatriated Scot who had nowhere to go but the cold wet streets.

“Alright I’ll just be a few minutes more.” Malcolm replied through gritted teeth, his mood souring further when the guard had the nerve to smile at him gratefully before leaving.

Leaning back in his chair Malcolm ran his hands through his considerably overgrown mop of curls. Unable to afford a trip to the barbers his usually trimmed cut had grown out and now his head was covered with silvery grey curls that had the tendency to flop onto his forehead or stick up in random spikes lending Malcolm a nutty professor air that he found most unflattering. Yet right now he had more to worry about than his hair, pressing concerns like just where he was going to spend the night sprang to mind.

He did have some family roundabouts, a cousin in Dundee and of course there was always the ex in Glasgow but Malcolm would rather join the tramps kipping under the city’s bridges than darken her door ever again. It was one thing to have fallen so low, it was something very different to have to admit to it.

Rummaging through his pockets Malcolm dumped out the meagre contents, a couple of quid, a few sticks of gum, a random set of keys and a relatively clean tissue. For a moment he stared at them wondering just whether the couple of quid could earn him a trip on the night bus and at least a few hours out of the rain…Or he could try and bounce a night in some dodgy hotel on his already maxed out credit card and hope against hope they didn’t reject it?

But then his gaze settled on the keys, the keys he had forgotten to give to Carol and a sudden thought flashed across his brain like lightning. 

No he couldn’t…

Well he could, but he shouldn’t and besides it wasn’t like he even knew where her flat was…

Only he could find that out, either through a few judicious phone calls or some careful snooping.

Malcolm had the keys for the office filing cabinets and there was bound to be something in there, failing that Malcolm was certain one of his newspaper hack contacts would know Janice’s Edinburgh address. After all the paparazzi would have been staking it out along with the office and her family home in Glasgow.

So it wasn’t really even a question of could. It was a question of how low had Malcolm sunk that he was actually considering squatting in someone else’s home without their permission.

Scooping the keys and assorted ends off of the table Malcolm shoved them back into his pocket, scowling down at the desk top as he ran through the other options available to him. Already he could feel the metal keys warming in his hand as he kept his fist closed around this little life line. 

Who was he kidding it wasn’t really a matter of choice, he was out of fucking options and even though it felt like sinking to a new level of scum, right now Malcolm Tucker the man who had once resurrected solutions out of the recently mangled corpses of his political victims was out of magic tricks.

Besides it was only for a few nights. 

A few nights of not having to sleep sitting upright in a back breaking plastic chair, a few nights of proper heating and hot water, of living like a normal person instead someone two steps away from the streets.

And Janice was in Glasgow, it wasn't like she would even know...so who was it hurting?

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	8. Chapter 8

Day 13: 21.30pm Edinburgh (Janice’s apartment)

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Malcolm was in heaven, well as close as a crotchy old sinner like he could ever get to heaven.

Leaning back in the large tub Malcolm relished the way the hot water relaxed his aching muscles. Those days and nights spent cramming his long coltish body into that intractable plastic chair or spent slumped over his desk had caused havoc on his already troublesome back. Fumbling in the low light for his drink Malcolm finally found the glass of single malt that he had liberated from Janice’s impressive drinks cabinet.

The woman might have been a little neurotic, well maybe more than a little, yet Malcolm had to admit she had good taste in booze or perhaps it was that alcoholic husband of hers? Still regardless of where the credit lay it was an excellent dram of smooth whiskey, just the right amount of smoky flavour and soft burn on the way down.

It was a good whiskey, it was a great apartment.

It hadn’t been what Malcolm had been expecting, although to be honest he really hadn’t given it much thought in advance of turning up outside the address he had scribbled down from Carol’s rolodex a little after Midnight, tired, cold and soaked to the bone. It had been the rain that had finally forced him to go in. Malcolm had spent the entire walk debating with himself over whether he was actually going to do this? Enter someone else’s home without their permission even if he didn’t exactly need to break in.

Yet the slaking relentless slush that passed for rain in January had quickly soaked through his London appropriate winter coat and it had been a stark choice, go in or risk life and limb kipping out under a bridge somewhere in winter. It hadn’t really been a choice; it was a matter of survival.

Yet that didn’t help ease the creeping sense of guilt that lingered.

Janice’s flat was on the top floor of one the traditional grey stone Edinburgh townhouses. With an open plan lounge diner kitchen, with windows that looked out of the street and had a good if distant view of some Edinburgh’s main landmarks, it felt larger than it was. That probably had something to do with the extra natural light that was supplied to the apartment by large skylights set into the sloping roof. It was airy and surprisingly uncluttered, for some reason Malcolm had expected lots of those ugly ornate china ornaments on fucking doilies everywhere.

It had been sheer bliss to take advantage of the large roll top bath that first night and it was a luxury Malcolm had allowed himself to indulge in this evening as well. Finally his aching back seemed to be recovering, even if sleeping on Janice’s sofa wasn’t exactly as good for him as a proper bed would be but Malcolm drew the line there. Apart from putting his head around the door he hadn’t as much stepped into Janice’s bedroom let alone even considered sleeping in her bed, that was a step too far even for him.

His guilty conscience didn’t extend as far as her refrigerator.

It had been several days since Malcolm had eaten properly, if he was fair it was since Janice had been sacked. The woman may have been a naïve nincompoop of a politician she could bloody cook and Malcolm had found himself missing the constant flow of food the frustrated former housewife used to flood the office with…Her secretary had probably dropped half a stone already.

Even though his stomach had grumbled rebelliously at him Malcolm had found the strength to avoid the full and meticulously labelled Tupperware in the freezer. Instead he finished off food that would have gone bad in the refrigerator before moving onto toasting the stale bread and fishing out a tin of beans from the back of a cupboard. It was hardly a cordon-bleu meal but for a man who had been surviving off of scrounged biscuits from the tea trolley and whatever happened to be reduced at the local pop in and could be heated either in a microwave or served just by adding hot water, well it was almost heaven.

So now belly full, a good whiskey and the soothing hot water Malcolm enjoyed the view from the bath, staring up at the night’s sky through one of bathroom’s skylights. He had turned the bathroom lights off so as to better see the stars. He was actually in danger of nodding off when the sudden blinding light caused him to cry out in surprise and pain flinging his arm across his eyes to block out the light and dropping the whiskey glass for good measure.

Yet his yell nor the smashing of the glass was nothing compared to the scream that echoed from the doorway.

Blinking away the spots in front of his eyes Malcolm knew who it was before his vision cleared, standing in the doorway her eyes wide in horror as her voice suddenly faltered was Janice McCann.

\---/---


	9. Chapter 9

21.40pm Janice’s Flat Edinburgh

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Janice had honestly thought today couldn’t get any worse. Only now she had a shock worthy of a heart attack to add to the list.

There was a man in her bathtub!!!!

A naked man taking a bath in the dark in her bathtub!!!

Stumbling back from the door Janice looked for something heavy to use as a weapon her eyes raking over her sparsely decorated sideboards and tables before settling on one of the desk lamps. Only the damn thing was plugged into the wall and scrambling down to unplug it would leave her vulnerable. No it would be far safer to simply call the police than to try and tackle this intruder on her own.

“I’m calling the police!” Janice called out her voice as shaky as her hands were as they fumbled for her purse and her mobile; luck certainly was not on her side as she entered the wrong password in her haste as she heard the sloshing of bathwater as the intruder must have stood up.

“Don’t…For Fuck….” Her intruder called out and despite everything he sounded somehow familiar… then there was the sound of feet hitting the tiled floor before… “ARGHHH!” And then a heavy crash.

“Fuck…Fuck…Fuck…FUCK!”

Dropping her mobile in surprise it suddenly dawned on Janice just who was in her bathroom. It wasn’t exactly ironic that it was his foul language that gave him away but it was inching pretty close. Shuffling back towards the door Janice picked up the lamp even if it was still plugged in it looked heavy. Even if it really was Malcolm that didn’t explain what he was doing here? It didn’t mean he hadn’t gone insane and wouldn’t attack her just because she knew him.

“Shit…Ow…Fuck.”

“Oh my God!” Janice gasped before forcing herself to look away hand reaching up to cover her eyes as a deep flush rushed to her cheeks. Yet even a fleeting glance had proven most enlightening, even if she was going to have to say at least ten Hail Mary’s just for thinking it, but Malcolm Tucker was a mad of hidden depths after all…

Reaching out blindly groping for a towel Janice did her best to throw it in the right direction of Malcolm’s prone form. Wincing as the recipient muttered another foul curse in what he probably thought was too low for her to hear, but Janice was the mother of a sixteen year old and as such had perfected the act of hearing what wasn’t meant to be heard.

Grunting as a towel practically hit him in the face Malcolm accepted the gift for what it was an olive branch at least, and he tucked it around anything embarrassing. Even if the effect was pointless, she had seen him, seen him prone and pathetic and in pain on her bathroom floor; the nakedness merely exacerbated the situation but it was the vulnerability that really brought the heat to Malcolm’s cheeks.

He had panicked and slipped getting out of the bath, that damn drink he had dropped had smashed over the floor and there had been nothing Malcolm could have done. He had gone down like a sack of wet cement and his bloody back had protested violently the collision. Now he was stuck here on the wet bathroom floor, his modesty barely covered, his pride in shatters and the shards of bloody glass from his dropped drink sticking into vulnerable places in his back and bare backside.

“Malcolm.” Janice paused in the doorway surveying the damage now the rude bits of Malcolm Tucker were at least temporarily covered. “Malcolm I think I am owed an explanation. What are you doing in my bathroom…why are you even in my flat in the first place?”

“Ow…ow…” Malcolm couldn’t help complaining like a small child, it bloody hurt. “I am more than a little preoccupied right now Janice.” He retorted through gritted teeth as his damn back refused to allow him to simply sit up or lever himself off of the floor, so that only left…

Trying to turn onto his side first Malcolm did his best to preserve his modesty but his damn back was making that more difficult than it should be, every movement was like red hot pokers shooting up and down his bruised spine, still better Janice see his arse than other parts of him. Reaching back he tried to brush off the bits of broken glass, crying out in pain when his fingers caught pieces that were actually digging into his flesh.

There were some bits that were stubbornly refusing to budge and Malcolm swallowed a frisson of fear as it wasn’t like he could see them and they could be in deep…

Now that looked nasty and Janice wasn’t remarking upon the Tucker tush which despite being peppered with fragments of broken glass was actually…Twenty Hail Mary’s! Her blush deepening Janice forced herself to calm down and cross the floor to actually help the poor man. Somehow she doubted that she was currently in any real danger from her unexpected house guest, Malcolm wasn’t that good an actor and those injuries certainly weren’t faked.

Stiffening as he felt fingers that weren’t his own brush against his skin Malcolm wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. “Don’t…”

“No you don’t be an idiot Malcolm, besides this is my flat, you put yourself here and you can either do as you’re told or you can get yourself up off the floor and leave just as you are!”

Pressing his face into the cool tiles Malcolm tried his best not to react as surprisingly gentle fingers took hold and began to prise the remaining glass from his flesh. “Fuck…”

“This one is in quite deep.” Janice muttered biting her lip in concentration as she tried to free the last piece from the dip above his hip.

“Holy Jesus’s sweaty balls!” Malcolm bellowed out his disapproval.

Reaching for another towel as she managed to pull it loose Janice pressed the towel to the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

“I think you are going to need stitches.”

“No...No….NO no No!” Malcolm muttered furiously shaking his head as he tried to push himself to up with one hand and hold on to the towel with the other. He couldn’t even push aside Janice’s assistance as she tried to help him stand.

Finally standing on his feet Malcolm tried his best to wrestle back control of the situation, avoiding that piercing blue gaze as he took hold of the towel pressed to his bleeding back.

“Thank you but I can manage from now on.” Malcolm insisted even as he tried to straighten up properly and his back spasmed in reply.

“Fine!” Janice snapped, unable to believe that there was a man as stubborn as Malcolm Tucker in existence. The way he was acting you would think she had caused this, that she had somehow broken into his house and invaded his privacy deliberately.

“Well since you clearly don’t need my help or value my advice Mr Tucker I will leave you to make yourself decent but I suggest you keep pressure on that wound…”

“Well that would be so incredibly considerate of you.” Malcolm mockingly retorted, unable to stop himself even now from falling back on his preferred defence of sarcasm. “I don’t know how I would manage without you here to point out the bloody obvious.”

Pulling back as if slapped Janice refused to allow Malcolm to see the genuine hurt that shuttered across her face for a moment before she forced it down. After all what was another man yelling at or ignoring her advice today? Well she might have taken it from her son and she might have suffered it from her husband until even her limit had been reached but Janice was damned if she was going to take it from Malcolm Tucker, not here and not tonight.

Wrapping the shreds of her dignity around her like a cloak of protection Janice strode out of the bathroom but not before calling back over her shoulder.

“And then when you are decent you can have five minutes to explain just why I shouldn’t call the police and have you arrested for breaking and entering!”

\---/---


	10. Chapter 10

\---/---

22.00pm Purgatory (aka Janice’s living room)

\---/---

It had taken Malcolm far longer than expected to be able to pull on the pyjama’s he had brought into the bathroom with him. Just pulling on the drawstring bottoms alone had been an exercise in pain and determination. And fine he might have tarried a little longer than necessary in the bathroom trying to pull himself together, to reassemble part of his Malcolm Tucker mask before having to face Janice’s ire.

Shuffling into the living room back held in an awkward pose Malcolm was surprised to catch Janice off guard; he had been expecting her to be waiting for him ready to pounce. Instead she had her back to him getting ice out of the freezer. He watched, enjoying those few extra seconds of reprieve before Janice noticed his presence, as she neatly divided the ice cubes in to two piles.

One went into a cool bag which was then wrapped in a hand towel the remainder was dropped into a long glass into which she poured an alcoholic’s serving of London Gin. Malcolm was almost tempted to ask for a drink himself before he remembered he was already skating on very thin ice and that might just be the blow to send him crashing through into the freezing waters below.

“Are you planning on adding any tonic to that?” Malcolm jested trying to keep his tone light and non-adversarial.

“No.” Janice’s reply was clipped slamming the last of the ice in her glass, her tone just as cold, far harsher than Malcolm had probably ever heard from her but right now Janice was in no mood to worry about upsetting him.

The last few days had been…well they had been some of the worst in her life and Malcolm didn’t realise how lucky he was she was even giving him a chance to explain himself.

Swallowing down a flippant reply to that Malcolm shuffled closer, he didn’t dare risk his back by trying to sit on the couch not to mention he was still bleeding and he doubted Janice would appreciate blood stains on her cream couch.

“Here.” Janice thrust the cold compress in his direction and for a moment Malcolm could only stare down dumbly before a repeated gesture and a explanation of “it’ll help with the bruising” had him fumbling to relieve her of it.

“Thank you.” Malcolm mumbled, hissing slightly as the very cold compress connected with his skin and another awkward silence descended.

Taking a long sip of her gin for fortification Janice waited for Malcolm to begin then when he remained mute she spoke. “I am waiting for my explanation Mr Tucker, if you would like I could use a timer if it would help you focus?”

Opening his mouth to answer Malcolm felt his silver tongue turn to lead in his mouth. He had always been able to rely on his ability to talk himself out of any situation but right now he was plum out of excuses or even a lie that would work and telling the truth…No…No Malcolm would rather face a night or two in the cells at least they would be warm and dry and he would get fed which would be a plus. It wasn’t like she would really go ahead with pressing charges this was Janice McCann.

Despite everything he had done to her Malcolm still couldn’t face Janice’s ridicule or worse her pity…

“I don’t have an explanation. So go ahead and do your worst.” Malcolm muttered, eying the few possessions he had unpacked wondering just how long it would take him to pack them. “Call the police if that’s what you feel you have to do.”

Surprised by his answer Janice finally turned to face him her blue eyes hard as flint even as she dug her manicured nails into the soft flesh of her palms, blinking at the blasé way Malcolm didn’t even deign her worthy of an explanation.

“What I feel I HAVE to do?” She countered her tone clipped. “How dare you try and make this about me and my behaviour! You break into my home and what I am just supposed to ignore that?” 

“I didn’t break in…”

“Forgive me Mr Tucker I am sure I would remember inviting you to stay.” Janice cut Malcolm off before he could come out with some ridiculous excuse.

“You gave me your keys, all I was saying was that I didn’t break in.” Malcolm retorted his dark eyebrows furrowing. “You do recall doing that?”

“Well yes…”

“Then in any court in the land it cannot count as breaking and entering.” Malcolm countered calmly even as he watched Janice’s cheeks flush with anger. Her skin was already pink and swollen looking and her eyes looked a little bloodshot, like she had spent far too long crying and he actually felt a momentary frisson of guilt.

“That is not the point Malcolm.”

“But it will be as far as the police are concerned.” Malcolm added, a sly smirk pulling at his lips as he warmed to his theme. “I mean there is no sign of forced entry and you gave me your keys, it is only your word against mine that I wasn’t invited to stay. I could quite easily intimate that your invitation was of the amorous nature and given the current press coverage…”

He should have been expecting the slap, he deserved it. Yet what cut the deepest wasn’t the way the skin of his cheek seemed to burn but the look of total betrayal in Janice’s blue eyes.

“How dare you!”

“Trust me Mrs McCann right about now I would dare anything.”

“You would lie through your teeth to save your own skin?”

“Aye, I have already done far worse.” Malcolm admitted and he had, far far worse in chasing what he thought was best; best for himself, best for the party.

“Of course I would prefer to avoid any such unpleasantness.” He paused blue grey eyes flitting nervously over her granite like expression. He was pushing his luck and Malcolm knew it but right now it was pushing his luck or spending a night on the streets of Glasgow.

“Mrs McCann…Janice we can both come out of this with our reputations intact; I am merely in need of a roof over my head for a few days…”

“You’re blackmailing me?” Janice scoffed unable to believe what she was hearing and she had honestly believed this day couldn’t get any worse.

“I prefer to call it negotiating a favourable arrangement.” Malcolm countered practically oozing the trademark Tucker charm as he tried to lean nonchalantly against the kitchen counter, trying and failing to hide a wince of pain as his bloody back spasmed. However Malcolm might as well have been trying to charm the birds from the trees for the success he was having.

“No let us call things by their proper names Mr Tucker it makes things easier.” Janice replied her voice deceptively soft but there was no warmth in her tone. “What do you want?”

“The use of your couch until Monday.” Malcolm replied bluntly, his throat dry as he tried to swallow down the sudden nerves that fluttered in his stomach at the thought of being trapped in the same flat as Janice McCann for over twenty-four hours.

“Board and lodgings that is all I require…and perhaps in payment I could offer my expertise in evaluating your best options…”

“You think I would want any help from you?” Janice couldn’t help the bitter amusement.

“You invade my privacy, threaten me with lies to the press when I dare to ask for explanation as to why you were here and now you are trying to sell me on why I should be grateful?”

That hurt more than the slap. “I am good at what I do…”

“Yes you are.” Somehow her agreement didn’t make it sound like a compliment, a fact confirmed as Janice continued after taking another long sip from her drink. “But I don’t want that kind of help.”

Running her fingers around the rim of her glass Janice debated topping up the gin, if Malcolm wasn’t watching her closely she would have done but his scrutiny didn’t sit easily. Malcolm Tucker looked at her, really looked at her and for a woman who had spent most of her life being overlooked it was a disconcerting feeling, like having your skin peeled back and your insides exposed for all to pour and poke over.

“Well do we have a deal?” Malcolm asked as he swallowed down his nerves and just how much he really had riding on Janice’s answer.

It was a bluff after all, Malcolm was counting on his reputation of being a complete and utter bastard to convince Janice that he meant it, that he would actually concoct a story and sell it to the press. Yet as badly as he needed her to agree part of Malcolm was actually hoping that she would call him on his bluff. That Janice’s opinion of him wasn’t so low that she actually believed he would stoop that low as to deliberately hurt someone who was already wounded and vulnerable.

So when Janice merely nodded, those bright blue eyes suddenly unable to meet his gaze, Malcolm actually felt sick to his stomach. He had gotten what he wanted but the actually price paid for it was unexpectedly higher than Malcolm had ever anticipated paying.

\---/---


	11. Chapter 11

Day 14: 8.30am Janice’s flat

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There was a man in her flat, a half-naked snoring man in her flat.

It took a good ten seconds after Janice had stumbled out of her bedroom door still half asleep, her head muggy from too much gin to remember just why there was a half-naked man snoring on her couch. Then she was too busy panicking about the fact that her hair was a rumpled mess like it always was before she spent an hour brushing and straightening or setting it rollers and that she was still in her scruffy cotton pyjamas.

Then she stopped.

It was just Malcolm.

She was a mess both figuratively and literally and what did it matter if he saw her like this, it wasn’t like she any longer cared for his good opinion? And she already knew he didn’t find her attractive in that way having turned down her foolish attempt to kiss him…something that given their present circumstances had been a blessing in disguise.

If Janice McCann had any redeeming features it was that she at least knew her own faults. As a child she had craved approval, her father had ruled their family with a fist of iron and when he wasn’t using his fist or his belt it was scolding words used to cut to the quick. So she had tried to do better, to be better, prettier, sweeter, to help more around the house in the hopes that one day she might actual earn a word of praise. Yet when her father died barely two years after she had married Jackie she had still been waiting.

Her father, Jackie, her peers, the press, even her son Janice had bent herself backwards trying to please everyone else. Janice had thought she had finally begun to break that pattern when she went against Jackie’s wishes and took a job at the paper and then later ran for political office. Yet in reality old habits were hard to break and Janice had merely exchanged her husband and his friends for a new set of people to please.

Well it stopped now. There was no one left to disappoint.

Gathering her courage Janice stalked through her living room to the kitchen area. She opened the fridge and grimaced as she caught sight of the meagre contents, nothing in there was particularly appetising but Janice knew from experience that she had to eat something. It was a fine tightrope and the stress of the last few days meant she had left it too long. Janice knew she would struggle with every bite but she had to eat.

Reaching into the fridge she pulled out an opened pot of natural yogurt, sniffing it for any sign that it had gone bad she closed the fridge and moved to the cupboard retrieving a bowl and her box of muesli. Measuring it precisely Janice put two level cup measurements into the bowl and then added enough yogurt to make the dry cereal bearable. 

Now she hesitated the idea of taking her food into the bedroom was unbearable, unsanitary even and yet the idea of staying here and eating in front of someone, even a sleeping someone was also unsettling…

With a glance over at Malcolm to ensure he was still asleep Janice retrieved a teaspoon and dipped it into the bowl, then raising a half filled spoon to her lips she forced herself to put it in her mouth, chew five times and swallow. After a few seconds pause she repeated the process, mechanically, she tried to keep her mind occupied on something other than the process of eating. Just like she had when she was a child pretending not to listen as her parents screamed at each other over the kitchen table she recited the only poetry she had been able to memorise…

The thunder clap may clatter –  
The lichtnin' flare awa':  
I'm listenin' to the water,  
And heed them nocht ava.

I canna think o' sleepin':  
I canna hear eneuch,

“No wonder you are so fucking slim if you go around eating that bloody bird food.”

All but jumping out of her skin there was nothing to stop the bowl from slipping out of Janice’s grip. It hit the edge of the counter first before ricocheting off and smashing on the floor.

“Fuck…What the fuck is wrong with you woman?” Malcolm cursed jumping back despite his warring back as splinters of porcelain and sploshes of yogurt scattered over them both.

Jaw clenched tight Janice couldn’t have answered even if she cared to give him an explanation, she was trying her best not to be sick. The sudden shock and Malcolm’s intrusion that he had actually seen her eat…No one not even Jackie had seen her eat in years…

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe…

Even half asleep and grousing like a bear with a bad head Malcolm Tucker wasn’t stupid. He was a professional at reading other people and Janice looked like she was few scant seconds away from having a full blown panic attack.

“It’s alright…Janice look at me…Look at me. It’s just a bowl no real harm done.” Malcolm repeated his tone suddenly very soft and yet firm waiting until Janice actually obeyed his instructions before continuing.

“You just stand there, breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Take all the time you need alright. I’ll get the mess cleaned up.” Malcolm added his hands raised and palms open in supplication as he knelt down slowly and began to gather the fragments of the bowl and scooped up the mess of muesli and yoghurt with his bare hands.

Dumping the mess in the bin Malcolm hurried to the sink, washing his hands quickly before gathering a glass and the cloth from the sink. Filling the glass from the tap and damping the cloth Malcolm carefully placed the water in front of Janice before kneeling back down and wiping up the rest of the spill from the tiled floor.

By the time he stood up again Janice was at least breathing regularly if a little heavily and was slowly sipping on the water.

Hesitating awkwardly Malcolm felt the increasingly familiar feeling of guilt curdle in his stomach. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have startled you, I just didn’t think...”

“Not your fault.” Janice managed to reply even she was unable to meet his gaze, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. “You’re not the mental case here.”

“You are not mental Janice.” Malcolm replied gently not sure whether he should reach out and awkwardly pat her shoulder, but comforting anyone was not a skill Malcolm had in any sort of abundance and so he changed his mind hand left awkwardly hanging in mid-air.

“A little highly strung but definitely not mental.” He added in what he hoped was a jokey manner as he drew his hand back and ran it through his annoyingly longer hair which as usual was doing its usual morning aerobics and sticking out like a nutty professors. God knows he must look at state, nothing like the respectable hatchet man that once had the editors of London had quaking in their boots.

“Thanks…I think.” Janice muttered her fingers running nervously over the rim of her water glass. “You won’t…” She paused cheeks burning with embarrassment as she avoided meeting Malcolm’s gaze. “You won’t tell anyone will you?”

And by anyone it was clear who Janice was really talking about and Malcolm felt his stomach churn in guilt as he recalled the very bluff he had used to blackmail Janice into letting him stay. Why wouldn’t she think he was capable of exploiting this weakness when he was already guilty of far worse?

“No.” Malcolm replied softly his blue grey eyes raking over Janice’s red cheeks and crazy hair and the way she seemed to be hugging herself protectively. He wasn’t the only one who had to battle mother nature in the morning it seemed, even if for Janice the slight unkemptness actually made her more and not less attractive, and Malcolm forced himself to look away lest he was caught staring. “Really no.”

After all even for him there were limits and besides there was nothing in it for him. It was a cold calculated truth but Janice McCann was now probably the person who was safest from being “Tuckered”, he had already destroyed her life for his own gain there was nothing left for her to give. Well except for…and the idea of that was far harder to push away now standing alone in Janice’s flat in their respective pyjamas than it had been in her office and yet he deserved her far less now than he did then.

“How about a cup of tea?” Malcolm suggested relived when Janice nodded, a chuckle of actual laughter catching in his throat as they both moved to the kettle at the same time and his hand covered her much smaller one on the handle. Unable to resist holding it there for a moment longer even as Janice made immediately to pull away as if his touch had scolded her.

“I was offering to make it. Unless of course you were hoping for an excuse to throw boiling water at me?” Malcolm teased enjoying the way Janice actually blushed.

“I just might.” Janice muttered under her breath, yet the twinkle in Malcolm Tucker’s eyes suggested even if he hadn’t heard her he had at least grasped the gist. Yet she relented and allowed him to seize the kettle and move to fill it from the tap.

Leaning back against the counter Janice watched Malcolm work. Other than Carol her secretary Janice couldn’t recall another person who had made her a cup of tea in decades, certainly not a man. Jackie certainly hadn’t and Janice couldn’t help but watch him closely just in case.

“I can safely boil water Janice.” Malcolm spoke, he could feel the weight of her baby blues on him as he methodically moved around the kitchen, opening cupboards and pulling out the tea bags and a couple of mugs.

“You seem very familiar with my kitchen.” Janice couldn’t help but remark as Malcolm not only found what he was looking for in the first cupboard but easily found the drawer with the cutlery in as well.

It was almost unsettling just how that fact didn’t upset her the way Janice had assumed it would. Last night and her discovery of Malcolm squatting in her flat had made her angry, angry that he would invade her privacy like this without her permission, angry that he didn’t even deign to explain himself, angry that he had then dared to blackmail her into letting him stay. Yet she hadn’t felt in any danger, hadn’t even locked her bedroom door when she had gone to bed, and now her anger her had faded somewhat Janice was surprised how easy it was to stand here in her pyjamas as he made her tea.

Malcolm’s presence didn’t make her uncomfortable any more. 

Yet was that because she had nothing left to lose and no longer needed to care what he thought of her? Or was it that because Janice had simply become accustomed to Malcolm in all of his contradictory glory, one moment insulting and sarcastic the next unexpectedly softly spoken and considerate?

“It is well laid out kitchen and things are easy to find.” Malcolm replied unaware of the quiet introspection of his companion. “I haven’t gone snooping through your possessions if that is what you are really asking.”

“No it’s not.” Janice answered, the thought hadn’t actually even occurred to her and that wasn’t simply because she was as stupid and naïve as Jackie accused her of being but because she honestly couldn’t imagine Malcolm doing something like that.

“Because if you were wondering I haven’t Janice.” Malcolm insisted as he moved to the fridge and brought out the bottle of milk, lifting the top and sniffing the contents just to check they were still good. When the milk didn’t smell rancid Malcolm mentally crossed his fingers and poured a measure into the bottom of both mugs.

“I didn’t step one foot into your bedroom. I may be a prize bastard I will admit as much but I haven’t as yet sunk low enough that I will rummage through a lady’s frillys…”

“Not without her permission.” Janice countered with some bite pleased when Malcolm actually laughed. It was a nice laugh, open and easy and surprisingly free of its usual derision.

“Aye.” He echoed pleased that Janice had recovered her wit sufficiently to poke holes in his vanity and it was with some measure of pride that he handed over a perfectly acceptable mug of tea.

Accepting the mug Malcolm offered Janice stared down into the tan contents her nose twitching as she discerned its suitability for herself, yet at the slightly crestfallen expression that gathered on Malcolm’s face as she hesitated Janice mumbled a quick prayer before taking a sip. It was…fine…not the best tea she had ever tasted but it was far from the worst. Then at the expectant look Malcolm fixed on her Janice relented to reply.

“Fine you can boil water.” She admitted grudgingly, hiding her smile behind the rim of her mug as Malcolm hummed in triumph.

“Oh just you wait princess I can do more than that…” Malcolm retorted waving his finger about in vindicated pleasure as he reached into the fridge and pulled out the egg box that lingered at the back.

“Now for my second masterstroke, boiling eggs in water!” He added giddily as he rummaged for a saucepan filling it quickly before Janice could object and so missing the panicked expression that flittered across her face.

“I do say it myself but I make a mean boiled egg and soldiers….” 

“Malcolm…”

“Gordon Fucking Ramsay would struggle to do it better I promise!” Malcolm expounded confidently as he placed the saucepan on the stove and lit the gas. “And besides you’ll waste away eating that rabbit food.”

It was too much. Janice could feel her stomach rebelling at even the thought. Eating was hard enough but to eat in front of someone else. Already she could feel her stomach cramping, the sudden reflex to gag. Hand in front of her mouth she abandoned her tea and Malcolm without a second glance, feet quickly covering the distance to the bathroom before she could humiliate herself twice in the same morning.

The sudden movement and then the slamming of the bathroom door were the first and last signs that something was amiss and Malcolm turned around to find the kitchen lonelier by one. Only this time he was completely at a loss about what exactly he had done wrong.

\---/---


	12. Chapter 12

Warning non graphic description of attempted rape, just warning you folks.

Day 14: 22.30 Janice’s flat

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The words on the screen swam in front of his eyes. Groaning as he leant back in his chair Malcolm ran his cramping hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes before travelling up and tugging on his hair, not caring if it caused the damn wiry curls to stick out all over the place. He had tried to bury himself in work; it was a tried and tested avoidance tactic, one that his ex-wife would attest too at nagging length. Yet Malcom couldn’t deny he was worried.

His eyes drifted to the front door as if willing it to open and for Janice to reappear. She had left hours ago without more than a word or two in his direction and only the gym kit back slung over her shoulder seemed to give him any clue as to where she was heading. Yet she should have been back by now and Malcolm couldn’t help but run though all the things that might have happened to her.

Several times over the last few hours Malcolm had even gotten up from his seat intending to put on his pathetic excuse for a coat and go out into the shitty weather to look for her, then his common sense prevailed and reminded him that Janice was likely to head back here before he had any hope of finding her. So now Malcolm was reduced to clock watching.

A loud banging on the front door jarred Malcolm out of his stupor and he was on his feet and crossing the room before his brain caught up with his body and reminded him that Janice wouldn’t need to knock…that Janice had a key. Silently cursing Malcolm bent down and pressed his eye to the peek hole, reeling back when he not only recognised the person on the other side but when their repeated knocking caused the door to shake in its frame.

“Janice open the fucking door.” Jackie McCann bellowed.

Great the husband. It didn’t take Malcolm’s genius to realise that being caught in Janice’s flat by her enraged estranged husband was a bad idea but so was leaving him to bellow and beat at the door.

“If you don’t fucking open this door woman I will break it bloody down!” Jackie’s threat convinced Malcolm and he forced his most I don’t give a fuck expression on to his face.

“Leading me on a bloody goos…” Jackie continued to complain before he spotted Malcolm and his raised eyebrows.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Malcolm Tucker your wife’s PR liaison, not her bloody doorman.” Malcolm sneered back going on full out attack, Jackie McCann was not the smartest tool in the shed and Malcolm was certain bamboozling him with words would distract him from asking difficult questions. “Now if you don’t mind I have work I need to get back to.”

Turning his back on the ex-footballer Malcolm strode back to his laptop, sitting back down in front of it and appearing to give it his full attention even as he watched Jackie out of the corner of his eye. The man swayed slightly before leaning against the doorjamb for support, drunk again no surprise there, Malcolm had pegged him for a lush the moment he met him.

Jackie finally pushed himself away from the doorframe and entered the flat proper, leaving the door wide open, not that Jackie McCann noticed. “So where is she hiding?”

“Oi was your mother a bloody sheep or cow or something, were you born in a fucking barn?” Malcolm couldn’t help but snap pointing towards the open door which was letting in a draft of cold air.

Raising his hands in a mocking surrender Jackie swayed a little as he reached back and pushed the open door closed, yet his attempt was half half-hearted at best and Malcolm sighed as the damn thing remained ajar.

“Happy mother?” Jackie retorted sarcastically, laughing at his own attempt at humour that fell decidedly flat with Malcolm, who instead stared at him from beneath his aggressive eyebrows like he was some annoying yappy dog that had just done a shit in the middle of the carpet.

“Oh ecstatic.” Malcolm drawled doing little to hide his contempt as the former footballer took a few staggered steps further into the room before looking around in confusion.

“Janice get your bloody arse out here and fix me a damn drink.” Jackie bellowed, narrowing his eyes when there was no wife immediately jumping to obey him. “Oi you…Mickey was it”

“Malcolm.”

“Whatever…” Jackie grunted. “Where is my wife?”

“Out.” Malcolm retorted. “Do I look like her bloody social secretary?”

“Fine.” Jackie grunted dropping himself onto the white sofa and kicking off his shoes. “Then you get me a bloody drink.”

“I am not her bloody butler either.” Malcolm replied. “Get your own damn drink.”

“Hey if you work for her then you work for me.” Jackie grunted, squinting and waving his finger in Malcolm’s general direction. “I’m the one that pays the bloody bills around here. So if I say get me a drink you get me a god damned drink or you are fucking fired.”

“What a relief, do you think I want to be working at this time on a Saturday night?” Malcolm sniggered, rolling his eyes when that clearly went over or through Jackie’s head without touching the sides. “And besides the party employs me not Janice.”

“Oh you’re one of those…” Jackie began his lip curling in disgust before whatever dim lightbulb was still flickering away in amongst all that alcohol finally switched on. “Wait a minute I’ve seen you before at that dinner thing she dragged me to.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“That was boring as fuck.” Jackie added.

“They usually are.” Malcolm deadpanned watching warily from the table as Jackie heaved his middle aged spread out of the low slung sofa and managed to make the five steps required to cross the room to the whiskey decanter on the sideboard.

“Yeah I remember you now.” Jackie repeated pouring himself a triple measure before remembering his manners and offering Malcolm a drink, and by offering he gestured crudely, swinging the full decanter around by its delicate neck and thrusting it in Malcolm’s general direction.

“No thank you.” Malcolm replied even though part of him would have enjoyed a drink if only to make the evening pass quicker and numb his memory of this conversation.

“Yeah I remember you, riding my wife’s arse about that room like you were bloody glued to it.” Jackie snorted, dark eyes narrowing as he took a sip of his whiskey. “So are you screwing her?”

Now Malcolm really wished he had accepted that drink. Swallowing down his initial retort which was to tell Jackie to fuck off Malcolm instead replied calmly. “Mr McCann my relationship with your wife is purely professional…”

Raising his hands in mock surrender Jackie snorted, “Look I don’t care if you are Mickey, not like I have any lingering interest in fucking her, been there done that” he added, an unattractive little smirk pulling at his lips. “Besides I like my pussy on the right side of thirty but there is no accounting for taste.”

Clenching his jaw Malcolm could only squash down the urge to punch that smug little smirk off of the bastards face. Was it any wonder Janice was the mental case she was having to put up with being married to this? Yet as much as bloodying Jackie McCann would make him feel better for a moment Malcolm knew it would only escalate this whole mess. He could see the headlines now and although he was the one who had painted the target on Janice he didn’t need to bloody well hand them ammunition to completely annihilate her.

“I am only going to say this once more, I am not sleeping with Janice we are colleagues nothing more and my choice in pussy is frankly none of your business.”

“Ahhh so you’re a poof… sorry should have realised, I mean I know people say how all politicians are bent and fucking their secretaries….and they have some pretty public boy secretaries…” Jackie chuckled taking another sip of his whiskey ignoring the way Malcolm’s was turning red as his gaze dropped to rake speculatively over the older man’s lean frame.

“So are you a fucker or a fuckee?”

“What…”

“Do… you… take it…up the… arse?” Jackie asked again slowly as if Malcolm was the one being thick before snorting in amusement.

“Of course you do, all you Westminster boys are the same, it’s practically part of the interview process. And I bet you suck cock like a professional.” Jackie added bawdily as he reached down and cupped the front of his trousers suggestively. “Fancy sucking some proper famous cock then Mickey?”

“You are disgusting.” Malcolm spluttered. “I don’t think they have yet invented a word for just how fucking repellent you are, whatever the word would be for the shit even primordial slime wouldn’t want to hang about with...that’s you!”

“Oh mister hoity-toity, what’s the matter Mickey is my cock not posh enough for ya?” Jackie snapped back his ruddy cheeks now almost purple with temper.

“Prefer your soft little pimple faced prep-school boys do ya?” He added palming his cock through the fabric of his trousers as he stepped closer. “Calling them into your office and have them bend over your desk whilst you give them your cane? Bet you’ve never even had a proper man fuck you before have you Mickey?” 

No he hadn’t and Malcolm had no desire to start now. Swallowing nervously as Jackie McCann continued to fondle himself and stalk closer Malcolm pushed away from the desk, determined to use his greater height to his advantage. 

“Your wife isn’t here Mr McCann I think it’s best if you leave before you say or do anything you will regret. “

“Exactly Micky boy she isn’t here so we can have a little fun before the old ball and chain gets back.” Jackie replied with a little leer that pushed Malcolm too close to the edge.

It was an instinctive reaction, the other man was too close, Malcolm’s balled fist acted on its own lashing out and landing a punch with a sickening crack on Jackie McCann’s nose.

“You stupid fucker!” Jackie screeched his hand flying to his bleeding nose, dark eyes narrowing in pain and promising swift retribution. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

Malcolm was able to swerve out of the path of the first punch, Jackie may have had twenty pounds and the muscle memory of a former athlete on him but he was also drunk and Malcolm was sober. The second caught him on the shoulder but Malcolm was already turning and on the way to the door, fuck the cold and fuck the rain, anything was better than staying here…

He was only four feet from the door when a heavy weight crashed into his back knocking him to the floor, Jackie McCann’s sixteen stone following him down and knocking the wind out of him. Gasping as his empty lungs struggled to refill themselves Malcolm could do little more than squirm as a strong arm locked around his throat and squeezed.

Yet even oxygen starved Malcolm fought as best he could as he felt a groping hand fumbling with his fly. Lashing out with his feet he landed a kick or two if the way the choke lock around his throat increased. Yet it didn’t manage to stop the exploring hand and he felt tears that had little to do with physical pain fill his eyes. Already he could feel his vision start to grey at the edges, he was going to pass out and then there would be nothing to stop…

The shattering sound of glass was followed by loud cursing and for Malcolm the blessed relief of a sudden influx of air as the dead weight was suddenly removed from his back. Malcolm lay with his forehead pressed to the cool floor relishing the simple blessing that was breathing.

“For fucking sake woman what is wrong with you!” Jackie’s distinctive voice sent shiver down Malcolm’s spine and grasping at his unfastened trousers he did his best to put as much distance between himself and his would be rapist as he could.

It was only when he felt the reassuring pressure of the wall at his back that Malcolm actually dared to lift his head to see what was happening and then he had to blink his eyes before he would believe it.

Janice…Janice had saved him…Janice had smashed the whiskey decanter against her husband’s head and was now threatening him with the jagged remains as Jackie McCann held his hands to his bloody head.

“What is fucking wrong with me? I come home to find you…you raping my friend and you ask what is fucking wrong with me?” Janice all but screamed, and it was telling of how well he knew her that Malcolm was more shocked by the actual expletives than he was that Janice McCann was capable of bottling anyone.

“Now Darling…”

“Don’t you ever Darling me again Jackie McCann.” Janice growled her blue eyes resolute. “Or I will give you a face to match that sick twisted soul of yours.”

“Janice put it down we both know you don’t want to hurt me.” Jackie cajoled in what he probably thought was a charming manner. “You’re my wife…”

“Aye lucky me, well you haven’t been my husband for a long time Jackie McCann so I think it’s about time I returned the favour.” She added reaching into her pocket and withdrawing her mobile which Janice then threw in Malcolm’s direction.

“Call the police Malcolm.”

“What the fuck Janice no you can’t be serious.” Jackie blustered glancing between his irate wife and a silent Malcolm who was now clutching the phone like it was something precious.

“Call the police.” Janice repeated the instruction, her blue eyes flickering from watching her bleeding husband to catching Malcolm’s gaze, concern, compassion and guilt…Janice’s gaze had always been an open book and for all that once he had bemoaned her inability to play politician Malcolm was now more grateful for it that he could say.

“Aye fine call them; let’s have the press have another round of dragging us all to pieces.” Jackie sneered as he dragged himself to his feet, “I mean I am sure they would love to hear all about my slapper of a wife shacking up with one of her political cronies. What would happen to your precious career then Janice? Where would you be then without my good name and money to pay for your botox and the country club?”

“I think they would be far more interested in your assault and attempted rape of another man Jackie and I haven’t touched a penny of your money in years!”

“Oh don’t be so bloody stupid woman we were just fighting, your boyfriend there even threw the first punch I should have him arrested for assault, I was just defending myself.”

“That is not what it looked like to me.” Janice hissed, swallowing nervously as she clenched sweating fingers around the neck of the bottle as Jackie swayed within arm’s length of her. “And don’t insult my intelligence Jackie if anyone is stupid here it is you. Did you really think being Jackie McCann meant you could get away with anything even rape?”

“You are fucking delusional woman.” Jackie spat back swaying dangerously from side to side, eyeing the open door with something akin to relief. “And I am not staying here to be accused and insulted, I can’t believe I even let wee Jackie talk me into trying to talk some bloody sense into you. You should be in a fucking nut house Janice.”

“That would still be better than having to live under the same roof as you.” Janice spat back watching with a growing sense of relief as Jackie moved to leave. “Now get out.”

Jackie didn’t need to be told twice it seemed, and even staggering like a drunk his hand clutching his still bleeding head he managed to make it out of the door with little further fuss, even so Janice took great delight in slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. The moment it was shut she was dropping to the floor, bloodied decanter dropped to the floor as she wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her forehead against them to hide her sudden muffled tears.

Numb…Malcolm slowly felt feeling return to his own limbs and he shuffled along the wall until he was scant inches from her. Hand reaching out slowly, he clumsily fumbled, laying it on top of her head and rubbing her hair gently in a gesture he vaguely recalled from his childhood. For a good few moments Janice cried and Malcolm stroked her hair, then she turned her head, red tear stained eyes peeking out and staring at him from between wet strands of hair.

“I’m so sorry.” Janice gulped in between breaths.

“Don’t.” Malcolm retorted his tone far harsher than he intended and he softened it with a tug, pulling her closer, surprising himself as his long arms enfolded her in his embrace and he pressed her into his chest. Resting his cheek against the top of her head, Malcolm felt her tears soak into his shirt his fingers raking through her hair in what was a soothing gesture for them both.

“Janice believe me there is nothing you need to apologise for.”

\---/---


	13. Chapter 13

Day 15: 1.30am Hell

\---/---

Malcolm woke up screaming. He had been trapped, hands like bands of steel had held him in place and no matter how hard he fought he couldn’t escape. Yet somehow Malcolm managed to claw himself out of hell, yet even as he screamed and choked and tried to fill his lungs Malcolm felt his stomach rebel and the burn of acid hit the back of his already raw throat.

Feet tangling in the sheet Malcolm somehow managed to run, hop and leap over to the kitchen sink before the urge to vomit overwhelmed him.

When he was finished, his breathing coming in panicked pants, Malcolm switched on the tap and did his best to clean up the mess. God knows he didn’t want to leave it for Janice to find. She had gone from weeping mess earlier that evening to some sort of cleaning zealot. Malcolm had taken the opportunity to take a long soak in her tub whilst she tackled the bloodstains on the polished wood floors, yet when he had emerged all pink and pruned Janice had still been scrubbing away at the floor in her marigolds.

If she had stopped at the blood Malcolm could have understood it but he had watched drained and exhausted as Janice threw herself into tidying the rest of the flat as well. When she had vanished into the bathroom Malcolm had decided to call it a night and had retrieved the spare bedding Janice kept in the airing cupboard. He hadn’t heard her come out.

Not wanting to switch on the light Malcolm fumbled in the dark for a glass, filling it with cold tap water he sipped it slowly surprised when he could see the glow of light coming from under Janice’s bedroom door. She couldn’t be cleaning still surely?

Curious and glad for the distraction from the lingering remains of his own nightmare Malcolm crossed the room and paused at the doorway. Pressing his ear against the wood he waited to hear any sign of life, surprised when instead of the quiet that should have been he could hear some movement and the muffled sound of crying.

Torn Malcolm hesitated. He should let her be. This whole mess was the result of his meddling in her life and him sticking his big nose into her pain would only make it worse for all of them. And yet… Malcolm’s hand turned the handle and he pushed open the door, his common sense screaming at him.

“Janice?” Malcolm’s softly spoken voice jarred Janice from her systematic attack on her closet.

She had started earlier by putting things away but then she had come across certain outfits that she had bought with enticing her husband in mind and her mission had changed drastically. Now she had far more clothes in a pile on the floor than remained in her wardrobe, all those slinky little numbers that flashed her tits that Jackie had insisted on because they would look good in the papers…

“I’m sorry did I wake you?” Janice replied wiping away her tears before glancing back over her shoulder at Malcolm who looked like a little lost boy standing there in his striped PJ bottoms and rather shabby white t-shirt, his eyes still half dozy from sleep.

“No I woke myself.” Malcolm admitted hovering nervously on the threshold, avoiding her gaze and blushing as he added. “Nightmares.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Malcolm added his blush deepening and he rubbed his neck unsure just how to continue. “Then I heard you…” He trailed off unwilling to embarrass them both further by admitting her heard her crying even though they both knew, still it was a small kindness. “What are you doing?”

“Would you believe a little early spring cleaning?” Janice joked, relieved when Malcolm snorted in some approximation of a laugh. “Care to help?”

“Looks more of like a clear out to me.” Malcolm commented as he edged into the room and shut the door behind him, moving over to the pile of discarded clothes he was surprised to see so many beautiful designer outfits. Spotting a familiar red dress Malcolm quickly rescued that from the pile.

“I don’t think it’s your size Malcolm.” Janice quipped surprised when Malcolm reached for a hanger and began to put the dress back into her closet.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“That one looks amazing on you.” Malcolm answered shortly, his tone brooking no refusal. “You are not getting rid of it.”

Surprised and more than a little thrown by Malcolm’s comment Janice tried to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, turning her head so he wouldn’t catch the burning in her cheeks. Stop it Janice chastised herself, busying herself with her suits, it was pointless Malcolm didn’t feel that way about her and Janice was not making a fool out of herself again mooning over a man that didn’t want her. Didn’t her experience with Martin and Rab teach her anything?

“Janice aren’t you tired?” Malcolm asked softly, one glance at his watch showed just how late or early it was and he couldn’t help but worry. Had this been the last straw to tip an already fragile Janice over the edge?

Rubbing her sore eyes Janice couldn’t deny she felt bone tired, yet every time she felt tempted to crawl into her king-size bed the image of Jackie McCann threatening her with the nut house resurfaced. It wasn’t the first time he had used that threat to keep her in line, as her husband of eighteen years Jackie was more than aware of all Janice’s weak points and the terror of finally losing her grip on her sanity and ending up like her mum…

Suicidal, a danger to herself and others, best to have her locked away for her own safety the doctors had insisted. Janice had protested had wanted her Mum to come and live with her, but Jackie had flatly refused and with a small child to look after there was no way she could have left him and taken wee Jackie with her. So she had stood by and let them lock her mum up, temporary they said, best to give her time to settle in they said, a month later and the woman Janice had known was a shell. It had almost been a blessing when an undiagnosed and untreatable lung cancer had taken her not a year later.

“Janice?” Malcolm crept closer concerned when Janice stopped her clearing and stared off into space. Lifting his hand he placed it gently on her shoulder not surprised when Janice almost jumped out of her skin. “Sorry.”

“No.” Janice protested shaking her head. “No it’s me…I…I think I’m losing my mind Malcolm.”

“Shush you are just tired, you need to sleep.” Malcolm insisted rubbing his hand down her back, surprised when Janice turned and pressed herself into his chest. Without heels she was tiny, easily tucked under his chin.

Tightening her grip on his t-shirt Janice scrunched her eyes closed, trying to draw in strength and confidence from him. “I’m scared to.” She confessed into the fabric, yet Malcolm clearly heard her as his arms were wrapping around her shoulders and waist holding her closer.

Resting his chin on the top of her head Malcolm sighed deeply answering with a confession of his own. “Me too...”

Surprised at his answer Janice lifted her head, tilting her head back to meet Malcolm’s gaze, relieved to find it gentle and welcoming. “You could stay…” Janice suggested feeling her stomach churn as Malcolm’s gaze bore down into hers and she felt that familiar stirring fighting the urge to drop her gaze to his lips.

Fuck….Fuck Fuck Fuckity…Fuck. Swallowing hard Malcolm stiffened in Janice’s embrace, this was a mistake, he was going to be kicking himself in the morning…

“Sorry I…I…” Janice blushed crimson. Malcolm’s reaction told her everything she needed to know, he had looked like a trapped animal at her suggestion.

Placing her hands flat against his chest she ducked her head in embarrassment as she pushed herself away. “Stupid…idiot…” Janice chastised herself digging her nails into her palms to keep the hot embarrassed tears at bay. She had already made a fool of herself once there was no need to make it worse by bawling about it.

Yet as Janice pulled away Malcolm shivered with the sudden cold her absence left. Suddenly the regret he might feel in the morning paled into insignificance to the very real twisting in his gut he felt now. Reaching out before Janice could flee his presence entirely Malcolm grasped her wrist, surprising them both by gently uncurling her fists and bringing her imprinted skin up to his lips.

Pressing the softest kisses to her sensitive palms Malcolm literally felt the jolt that passed between them.

“You are not an idiot or stupid.” Malcolm insisted whispering the words against her skin and sighing as Janice’s other hand reaching up to stroke his jaw. “I’m just a coward and you you’re so brave Janice I’m in awe of you sometimes.”

“I’m not brave.” Janice protested. “Look at me I’m a bloody mess and you only know the tip of the iceberg.”

“I’m a foul mouthed workaholic.” Malcolm confessed, screwing up his eyes so he didn’t have to see her reaction as he added, knowing that soon Janice would be the one pushing him away. “I screwed up my marriage, I have no friends to speak of, I’m broke and until I stole the keys to your flat I have been sleeping in my office. Trust me Janice I’m the one not good enough for you.”

If before she had been attracted to him Malcolm’s confession and the way he girded himself for rejection literally broke her heart for him. Leaning up on her tip toes Janice lightly pressed her lips against his before pulling away giving Malcolm the chance to push her away if he wanted.

“Good job you’re so damn cute then.” Janice added causing Malcolm to finally open his eyes and glare down at her.

“Cute?” He spat mocking outrage to cover how very deeply her kiss had affected him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better woman?”

Unable to resist smiling back Janice merely nodded finally giving into the urge that she had for ages and running her fingers into those gorgeous silver curls of his. “Look at you all baby blues and curls…” Janice teased laughing as Malcolm’s outrage built and he began to attack her sides with his fingers in revenge.

“Say that again?” Malcolm warned as his tickling caused Janice to squirm and snort with laughter.

“Stop…Malcolm stop it.” Janice insisted as she tried to wiggle out of Malcolm’s grasp yet he cornered her against the wardrobe and there was nowhere to run.

“Not until you take it back.” Malcolm growled relishing her giggles and how easy it was to play with her like this.

“I’ll pee my pants!” Janice pronounced in between squeals of laughter.

“Good I needed an excuse to take them off.” Malcolm retorted smartly, yet even his bluff was called when Janice added.

“You only ever needed to ask.”

Playtime suddenly turned serious and Malcolm felt his own blood pressure jump in response. Hands dropping to the curve of Janice’s hip he rubbed his palm against the thin cotton of her shorts as he angled his head down pressing their foreheads together as he fought the urge to simply press her back against the damn wardrobe.

“Janice…” Malcolm’s voice broke slightly over her name. He wanted to, god knows he wanted her but it was too fast.

“I want you too if that helps any.” Janice whispered gently running her own hands down his chest, before lifting up the hem of his t-shirt and pushing her hands back up over the wide expanse of his bare back.

“No you bloody woman it doesn’t, it only makes it harder to keep my fucking head straight.”

“Hmmm harder can be good.” Janice replied suggestively one hand trailing down his spine and Malcolm knew exactly where it was headed.

Catching her wrist before her hand could dip into his PJ’s.

“Yes but slow is better.” Malcolm explained gently when Janice shot him a worried glance, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I don’t just want to fuck you Janice.”

Blushing at the intense way Malcolm was gazing at her, his eyes boring into her own Janice felt more exposed here with him still decently clothed than she had stark naked in bed with others.

“Slow is good.” She added with a reassuring smile, biting her lip like a crushing schoolgirl as Malcolm returned her smile. “You’ll still stay though? Please?”

Nodding Malcolm leant down and kissed her, teasing her lips open this time so he could taste her properly, almost regretting his own decision when she opened up to him as naturally as breathing. Still he hadn’t promised to behave himself and there was still quite a lot of leeway to be had before actual sex. Janice’s squeal of surprise as his hands finally grabbed hold of that pert little arse of hers actual had Malcolm break their kiss for laughing.

God this woman was going to be the death of him… Malcolm pondered as Janice quickly obtained her revenge pushing him back and causing him to fall back onto her bed dragging her with him. Janice lost no time in taking advantage of this newly equitable position, attacking his lips with a vigour that left him reeling…Yet what a way to go.

\---/---


	14. Chapter 14

\---/---

Day 15ish somewhere lovely and soft and warm…

\--/--

It was warm, he was warm, not hot but that perfect balance of temperature that matched his own body heat and Malcolm Tucker willingly burrowed down into the soft cocoon of warmth and sighed in contentment. Breathing in deeply his nose twitched at the scent of clean linen, the lingering tang of jasmine and musk and something else…something that made more than his nose twitch.

Skin…so soft and warm under his cheek; Malcolm turned and pressed his face into the soft yielding flesh. Breathing in the smell of it…of her…it was definitely a her, the curve of a breast under his palm told him that much.

Dreaming…he had to be still dreaming…a wonderful lucid dream; one that Malcolm was loathed to wake up from only to find himself in pain, slumped and drooling over that damn desk.

His nuzzling elicited a pleased murmur and Malcolm gasped as he felt the brush of fingertips against his hair. Pressing his head back against the hand like a cat wanting to be petted Malcolm almost purred as fingers slipped into his thick curls and long nails began to rake against his scalp. Shivering with the sensation Malcolm could help but groan.

Oh this was the best type of dream…Sex was one thing, not that he would object if it were offered, but tenderness and comfort were a far rarer find. It felt so good just to be fussed over a little, something Malcolm would normally never allow. He had an image to maintain after all, and if people knew how Malcolm Tucker would roll onto his back just to have belly or in this case his scalp scratched…well it didn’t bear thinking about Malcolm’s success had depended on him appearing cold and unassailable.

Magic fingers massaged away any desire to remain aloof and Malcolm’s old aching bones felt as limp as a willow tree.

Safe…warm…cared for…and growing more than a little aroused. Malcolm twisted and pressed himself against his bed partner, arching his back as he rubbed against her, the added friction sending shivers of pleasure up his spine. The hand in his hair faltered for a moment and Malcolm froze in response, the sudden rush of adrenaline scrambling his sleepy thoughts causing him to blink sleep encrusted eyelids. But then the hand resumed its petting and Malcolm relaxed again, sinking back into his doze, eyes drifting shut once more as he drank in the renewed attentions.

The hand guided his head to the crook of her neck and Malcolm willingly snuggled closer, nose nudging the curve of a jaw as he wrapped her up in his arms. The press of breasts against his own chest, the embrace of a leg as it wrapped snugly over his own gangly limb, always far too long for their own good. Yet none of that seemed to matter now, limbs long or short, toned or skinny who cared?

Pressing butterfly kisses to the skin beneath his cheek, Malcolm languidly explored the dip of a delicate collarbone with lips and the tip of his tongue, before mouthing the soft swell of a breast. Nosing redundant clothing out the way his tongue dipped out and found the hard little nub, flicking lightly over it before guiding it up and into his waiting mouth. Hands tightened suddenly in his curls as she bucked underneath him and Malcolm growled his approval biting down on the breast in his mouth.

“God Malcolm…”

Janice…he knew that voice…this wasn’t a dream…the memories of the night before came back at first sluggishly and then at the end with a sudden rush of colour and clarity…Oh…they hadn’t…but along with the pleasant memories of kissing and then falling asleep in Janice’s arms came the unpleasant and it was akin to a bucket of cold water being thrown over Malcolm as he recalled in horrifying detail the feeling of being powerless; of the fear as hands he didn’t want on him touched him intimately.

“Fuck.” Malcolm pushed himself away, not even the slight of a sleep rumpled Janice was enough to revive his earlier libido, and he rolled back onto his pillow pressing the balls of his fists against his closed eyes. “Fuck Fuck Fuck.” Yet there was no way to force those images and feelings from his mind.

“I’m sorry.” Malcolm finally managed to grunt out, he knew Janice was hovering awkwardly at his side, unsure just how to react at his sudden coldness. “It just all….I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, there is nothing you need to be sorry for.” Janice’s soft voice reassured him but still Malcolm felt like a failure, first for not having been able to cope with Jackie McCann himself the way the bastard deserved and now for letting him still get to him.

Feeling brush of her hand against his hair Malcolm forced himself to drop his hands from his face. He still couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to see the look of pity or disgust upon her face and yet he wasn’t strong enough to throw away comfort when it was offered. It had been so long since anyone had touched him with anything akin to genuine affection that Malcolm felt starved for it.

Lifting up the arm closest to her Malcolm left a space for Janice to occupy, relieved beyond words when she did just that without asking questions. Tucking herself into his side, her face pressed into the crook of his neck Janice left one hand stroking his hair, the other she curled up against his side…touching and yet not touching. Threading his fingers into her thick hair, Malcolm pulled his fingers through it, untangling knots where he found them and occasionally rubbing his fingers against her scalp.

“Hmmm you’re too good at that.” Janice murmured into his shoulder and Malcolm almost smiled at the unexpected praise.

“Am I now? Well that’s good to know always nice to have other career options.” Malcolm huffed.

“Malcolm…” Janice began but there was a hesitance in her voice that made Malcolm tense as if expecting a blow. “Last night…”

“Yes.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” Malcolm asked his throat suddenly dry and sore as he swallowed.

“About having to sleep in your office?” Janice asked trying to temper her curiosity with her compassion.

For a moment Malcolm considered not answering, of getting out of the bed and pushing Janice and her prying questions away. He had fought so hard to keep his situation a secret and last night he had just blurted it out without thinking. It had felt the right thing to do at the time but Malcolm was not a man accustomed to sharing his weaknesses and although it might be one thing to admit it, it was another thing entirely to discuss it openly.  
“Aye I meant it.” Malcolm confessed. “Janice can we not…it’s not exactly something I am proud of…”

“Aye…I just wanted…”

“I am not taking money from you woman.” Malcolm all but snapped before Janice could humiliate him further by offering to help.

“And I wasn’t about to offer.” Janice replied cutting him off before Malcolm could build up a steam of righteous indignation. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

Now he was truly confused and Malcolm turned his head to be able to stare down at the bizarre woman shaped creature in his arms. “Thank you for what?”

“For trusting me enough to finally tell me the truth about why you were really here.” Janice explained. “And it’s not charity but you are welcome to stay here as long as you need to; its nice having someone else around the place…It gets so lonely sometimes…”

“Aye.” That was a feeling Malcolm could sympathise with, after losing his party role Malcolm had rattled around his London house, drifting from room to room like a ghost haunting the place. He had felt lonely then, properly so for that first time, he had even found himself missing his ex…well for about thirty seconds before he remembered what a total cunt she was.

Pressing a kiss to Janice’s forehead Malcolm allowed his eyes drift closed, after all it was Sunday and a national holiday, he had no work to demand his attention and he was in bed with a beautiful woman. Somehow he suspected he could quickly become accustomed to this….

BUzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz BUzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“Oh for Fucks sake who could that be? Don’t they know it’s a fucking Sunday?” Malcolm all but growled as yet again something or more to the point someone had to come along and ruin things.

“Malcolm can you please not…It is Sunday after all.” Janice cringed at his repeated foul language as she pulled on her dressing gown and went to answer the door.

Grudgingly Malcolm considered following in her wake, but then he remembered Janice was a married woman and he wasn’t supposed to be here, if it were someone less than discrete then it would be better that she dealt with them herself. Of course it could be that husband of hers back with more of his threats. At that Malcolm swung his feet out of bed and padded over to the bedroom door that Janice had left slightly ajar.

Pressing his eye to the gap he watched as Janice made it to the front door, he watched as she faltered for a moment after glancing through the spy hole before finally unlocking it and opening the door.

The distinct florescent yellow over black and white uniforms told Malcolm everything at a glance. It would seem Jackie McCann was full of more than just empty threats after all.

\---/---


	15. Chapter 15

\---/---

Day 15: 7.45am Janice’s flat

\---/---

“Janice McCann?”

Nodding Janice forced a pleasant smile to her face even if inside she felt like screaming; it was second nature by now, her armour against the world.

“Your husband is Jackie McCann born 25th February 1969 resident of Fairview Drive Glasgow?”

“Yes.” Janice replied tugging her dressing gown further around her body as the chill from the open door caused her to shiver or perhaps that was the look exchanged between the two officers at her door that really chilled her.

Any moment now they were bound to arrest her Janice just knew it. Damn Jackie, why did he have to keep on making her life miserable?

“Mrs McCann I think it’s best if we come inside.” The younger female officer spoke next and Janice had no reason to refuse. At least they would do it in the privacy of her own home; they might even allow her to dress before dragging her off god knows where. God knows the press pack would have a field day if they were still camped outside.

“Of course can I get you some tea?” Janice asked out of rote more than any real desire for tea.

“No thank you, Mrs McCann may we sit down?”

Nodding Janice sank into the sofa, carefully arranging her dressing gown so that she didn’t accidentally flash the officers, although to be honest what was a charge of indecent exposure when she was about to be arrested for assault?

“I am afraid there is no easy way to say this Mrs McCann but your husband was involved in a traffic accident in the early hours of the morning. I am afraid he did not survive.”

“I’m sorry officer could you say that again?” Janice asked even as she felt the world around begin to tilt.

Obviously the police officers were somewhat used to that reaction as she felt strong hands catch her even as she began to list.

“Mrs McCann…Is there someone you would like us to call for you?”

“No…”

“You really shouldn’t be alone.”

“Malcolm.” Janice answered holding her dizzy head in her hands. “I want Malcolm.”

“If you let us have the number…” The female officer began only to be cut off as Janice shook her head and forced herself onto to unsteady feet.

Janice covered the ground to the bedroom surprisingly quickly, her hand reaching for the door, yet it opened without her needing to touch it and Malcolm stood in the doorway his expression sombre even for him.

“He’s dead.” Janice managed to force out, as if saying the words aloud would actually make them make sense. “Jackie’s dead.” She added as if there could be any actual doubt about who she was talking about.

“Janice I am so sorr…” Malcolm began only to be cut off by Janice’s hysterical laughter.

Buckling against the doorframe Janice was grateful for Malcolm’s strong arms that caught her before she could fall; she pressed her hiccupping mouth against the solid plane of his chest, smothering the choked laughter and occasional sobs that competed for release.

She was free, he was dead…Her husband was dead and she had probably contributed to it if not caused it.

The urge to turn and confess all to the police bubbled up; it was the catholic in her Janice supposed the need to unburden. Yet the sudden press of Malcolm’s fingers stroking through her hair stopped her. She would have tell them why, would have to explain what she had walked in on, and that would hurt Malcolm and wee Jackie.

No this was her sin, hers alone, and she alone would pay for it.

\---/---

It didn’t take long for Janice’s phone to start ringing once the news broke and Malcolm made himself useful by screening her calls. Those family and friends she did wish or had to talk to he gave his mobile number. It was a number officially unconnected to her and so the press were unlikely to try it.

Those members of the press who had been foolish enough to try Janice’s listed number or who had bribed some party member to pass on her mobile number well Malcolm relished the opportunity vent his Tucker diatribe. He was sure he made more than one cry which proved he still had it. By contrast Janice after her initial outburst had been surprisingly dry eyed and Malcolm couldn’t help but watch her carefully as if expecting her to break down again.

Distracted he fumbled with the kettle, cursing as the boiling water rushed out of the spout quicker than expected and sloshed over the rim of the mug and caught his fingers.

“Fuck…fuckity…fuck…fuck.” Malcolm hissed as he shook his burnt skin, dropping the kettle with a clatter as he rushed to get his abused digits under the cold water tap. The press of a hand to the small of his back made him start and Malcolm twisted to glance down in surprise at Janice who had managed to sneak up on him.

“Sorry…” He began gesturing to the mess of water and milk that he had inelegantly splattered across the counter top only for Janice to press a finger against his lips and stall his next words on his tongue.

“You do not need to apologise.” Janice reassured him leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to Malcolm’s stubbled cheek, lingering for a moment to breath in his warm masculine scent.

At the gentle press of her lips against his cheek Malcolm felt some of the tension coiling in his stomach unwind a little, his unburnt hand sliding around the curve of Janice’s waist and holding her against him. Sighing as Janice tucked her head into his neck Malcolm’s eyes closed as he breathed in the light perfume that lingered in her hair. The moment stretched between them, comfort given and received.

“I thought you might push me away.” Malcolm admitted surprising himself with how easily the confession slipped from his lips.

“I thought you would run away.” Janice retorted the bitter words sour on her tongue, after all that was the story of her life wasn’t it; all her lovers abandoned her eventually. It took too much from her to hope that Malcolm might be different. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted out of my mess.”

Pulling back slightly so he could scowl down at her Malcolm let his eyes and eyebrows convey just what he thought about that idea, watching closely as Janice blushed and once again hid her face against his chest.

“I didn’t mean…I just…if you are going to go.” Janice muttered into the soft cotton shirt, feeling her cheeks burn with awkward embarrassment. “Be kind and do it now while losing you wouldn’t break me.”

“Janice…” Malcolm sighed into her hair, his voice sad and weary as he held her closer. He could understand her doubts; goodness knows his track record and their history gave her no reason to put her trust in him…even less reason if she knew the whole truth about just how he had betrayed her.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t apologise.” Malcolm insisted squashing down his own hurt feelings and the lingering guilt that he doubted he would ever be rid of. “But please believe me unless you force me to leave I am not going anywhere.”

Smiling into his shirt Janice bit down on her bottom lip blinked back the tears that threatened, before tilting her head back to meet Malcolm’s gaze. “Promise?”

Nodding Malcolm paused, hesitating for a moment as his gaze was drawn to Janice’s reddened lip. The pull to kiss her was strong, as was the attraction that had been growing since the bloody woman had the nerve to slam that swear box down in front of him. Waiting despite being the sensible thing suddenly no longer had any appeal, not when death could be waiting around the corner.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzz Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Cursing as the mood was broken by the vibration of Janice’s mobile Malcolm sighed, snatching up the offending phone before Janice could. Accepting the call he held it up to his ear, just waiting to unleash his frustration on whatever fucking idiot journalist had ruined this for him.

“Mum…” A tremulous choked up voice echoed down the line firmly dousing any lingering thoughts of sweeping Janice into the bedroom and locking out the rest of the world.

Wordlessly Malcolm handed over the phone studying Janice’s face closely, the momentary confusion quickly turning to understanding and then lastly relief… “Jackie…”

\---/---


	16. Chapter 16

Day 22: 14.30pm St Patrick’s churchyard  
\---/---

Janice could feel the eyes burning into her, some condemning some pitying and some just eager for a juicy titbit they could feed the vultures circling just outside the church gates.

For the umpteenth time that day Janice was grateful Malcolm had insisted on the funeral being a private invitation only affair. Of course the only downside with that arrangement was in Janice’s eyes that Malcolm himself couldn’t attend. In such a close-knit group Malcolm’s tall scowling frame would stand out like a sore thumb and Malcolm himself had pointed out in his usual blunt manner that he didn’t trust Janice’s acting skills for toffee. 

On this point Janice had to concede. With her current press coverage outing him as her…soon to be lover…boyfriend…however their relationship could currently be described going public at her husband’s funeral was hardly sensible.

“Mam…” Wee Jackie’s prompt pulled Janice back to the present and she flushed crimson realising that the service had paused and every eye really was on her right now.

“Sorry.” Janice muttered shooting a glance at her priest who at least nodded sympathetically as she took the handful of dirt she was offered to throw down on top of the coffin, her son copying her movements.

Stepping back from the grave Janice vowed to pay better attention to proceedings. She just had to get through the funeral and the wake and then she could shut everyone else back out again and get back to dealing with putting her own life back together again. Perhaps with that to concentrate on Janice would be able to ignore that nagging voice that kept her awake at night that kept urging her to confess to her involvement in Jackie’s death.

How she had been able to avoid going to confession, when all she had talked about for the last week had been Jackie, Janice couldn’t fathom.

Fear had been a large part of it, not simply fear of reprisals but fear of losing the only thing that was holding her together right now. Janice knew she was jumping too fast too soon, but that had always been her failing letting her heart dictate. It didn’t help that one of those failings was standing in the group across the grave from her.

Rab was here and Janice had mixed feelings about it.

In some ways it was nice to see a familiar face, one that didn’t appear hostile towards her, yet the knowledge of how poorly she had behaved and how it had cost her a friendship she had treasured made her feel awkward. Plus Rab had brought his long term boyfriend Anselmo, the Spanish midfielder had only recently retired, and despite the many years that had passed Janice still couldn’t help but cringe when she looked back on her own behaviour.

She had made a fool of herself over a man who didn’t think of her as anything more than a friend. A gay man she had thrown herself at so desperate was Janice for love and affection she had latched onto the first person to notice her. Looking back now Janice shuddered, she had vowed she would never expose herself to ridicule like that again, but that nagging voice kept muttering away questioning how was this situation with Malcolm any different?

“Mam…” Jackie’s voice at her elbow drew Janice back out of her thoughts and she was once again glad for the black veil that could at least hide her blush as she realised the service was over and people were starting to leave.

Jackie McCann may have been a terrible husband but he was her husband and the father of her only child and she had spent the entire funeral service wrapped up in her own petty concerns and not saying goodbye to a man who for good or ill had had a significant impact on her life.

“Sorry Jackie…” Janice began, her guilt only multiplying as her son took her hand and squeezed it.

“It’s alright mam.” Jackie insisted, his blue eyes sympathetic. “I’ll take care of everything…”

“No.” Janice insisted, she might not have been a dutiful wife but she was certainly a better wife than Jackie McCann deserved, but she was not going to fail as a mother. “I’m fine, I am just glad that is over with…you concentrate on your training, it’s what your Da would want and I’ll look after everything else.”

For a moment her son looked like he wanted to argue, then a resigned look overcame his face and he hung his head. “Sure if that’s what you want…” He shrugged and moved to pull away only Janice’s grip on his hand stopped him.

“Jackie if you really want to help…” Janice began knowing she on the right track when her teenage son lifted his head to meet her gaze his eyes cautiously hopeful and Janice reached up to lay a hand on his cheek. “I’d really like it…I guess I thought I was just protecting you but I keep forgetting you’re not my wee laddie anymore you’re practically a man grown.”

Shuffling his feet Jackie was it seemed still young enough to be embarrassed by his mother’s affections. “Thanks Mam…Shall we go?”

“In a minute I just want a moment alone.” Janice replied glancing down at the open grave that the gravediggers would be along shortly to fill in. She had one or two things to say to her husband that she didn’t want her son overhearing.

“Ok I’ll wait over by the church.”

Nodding Janice watched until Jackie was safely out of earshot before turning her attention back to the grave. There was so much she had wanted to say to Jackie, so many times she had bitten her tongue rather than tell him what she really thought that even now the words stuck to her tongue.

“You weren’t a good husband.” Janice finally managed her blue eyes boring into the dark oak coffin.

“I doubt you even knew what the work fidelity meant.” She added bitterly. “But what hurt worse was being ignored, like I was just something you had to collect and then once you had me you didn’t need or want me anymore. I wasted years of my life trying to change so you’d love me back. But…you weren’t all bad…not like…” Janice paused.

Just because Jackie hadn’t verbally or physically abused her did that make him a better man than her father? He was a better father to wee Jackie than her own had been, a little distant and selfish but he had always shown his son affection and encouraged him.

“I guess all I want to say is goodbye Jackie. I won’t waste the rest of my life play acting the dutiful wife or widow any longer. I just hope you find a way to atone for your sins because I hate to think of you in hell. I did love you one, really love you, or perhaps I loved the man you could have been if you had just tried.” Janice sighed wringing her gloved hands.

“I’ll look after our son, he’s the only good thing to come out of our marriage and I do thank you for that…So I guess this is really goodbye.” Janice added surprised to find her throat closing up with unexpected emotion.

“Mrs McCann.” A tentative voice broke the tense moment and Janice whirled around expecting to be confronted by a reporter who had snuck in now the service was over, already intending to give them a piece of her mind.

Wrong-footed by the familiar face Janice managed to bite down on her intended spiel. “Mary?” She questioned, blue gaze casting over the once familiar face of wee Jackie’s old babysitter, the teenager she remembered was now a woman in her early twenties…a woman with a wee one of her own.

“I’m sorry to do this…I mean now of all times…” Mary stumbled nervously over her words, panic lacing through them as she noted Janice’s gaze, her hand tightening on her daughter’s hand. “But I tried to call.”

“Mary it’s alright, a surprise.” Janice admitted bluntly, as she tried to remember the last time she even seen the woman in front of her. Wee Jackie had stopped needing babysitter years ago and Mary had stopped returning her calls in those last few months so Janice had found a replacement.

“I just didn’t know what else to do and I know you don’t want to see me.” Mary retorted carrying on as if Janice hadn’t spoken. “But you can’t just cut me off.”

“Cut you…”

“I did what you wanted.” Mary steamrolled on oblivious to Janice’s confusion. “I stayed away, I kept quiet, kept it all out of the papers but I do have rights, my little girl has rights.” Mary added and it was like a light bulb suddenly lit and Janice’s eyes were drawn back to the little girl, the girl with her mother’s face but dark hair and those big brown eyes.

“Oh god.” Janice gasped, her gloved hand coming up to cover her mouth as her gaze remained locked on the little girl who drew back to hide behind her mother. “Is that…is she…”

“Jackie’s.” Mary confirmed and now it was her turn to pause and look confused. “You really didn’t know?”

“No.” Janice shook her head tears pricking at her eyes. “No I didn’t know.”

Biting her lip Mary looked like she was holding back a few choice words of her own before calming herself enough to speak. “He told me you insisted he stay away, that you’d threatened to leave if he got involved.”

“I would never.” Janice hissed. She probably would have left Jackie if she had known just what he had been up to with their child’s teenaged babysitter but she would never have forced him to abandon his own child.

“I’m sorry I guess it was just easier to believe that than the alternative.” Mary muttered with a sorrowful glance down at her daughter who was following their conversation a little too closely for her to spell it out.

The alternative that Jackie honestly didn’t want to be involved in his daughter’s life and with a few lies and enough money had paid for the situation to go away.

“How much do you need?” Janice offered softly drawing Mary out of her introspection.

“Jackie used to give me five hundred a month.” Mary replied her eyes hopeful.

“Yes but how much do you need.” Janice reiterated. 500 pounds would barely cover rent in some shithole let alone money for utilities and something to put aside for the child’s needs.

“I could probably make do with four fifty.” Mary sighed tightening her grip on her daughter’s hand and suddenly avoiding Janice’ gaze.

“Mary.” Janice coaxed waiting until the younger woman would meet her gaze before continuing. “I am not trying to low ball you here, I think it’s time we talked about this properly, worked out what you really need, something for a decent place to live something with a garden and good schools that is the least Jackie McCann can do for...”

“Isla…” Mary supplied blinking back tears of relief. “After my mum.”

“Hello Isla.” Janice bent down to greet the little girl who still shyly hid half behind her mother. “I’m Janice, your Mum and I used to be good friends. How would you like to come and visit my house tomorrow, you can bring your swimsuit and play in the pool whilst your mum and me talk. Would you like that?”

After glancing up at her mother for reassurance Isla nodded before favouring Janice with a shy smile that thankfully was all her own and nothing like Jackie’s smirk.

“Alright?” Janice confirmed meeting Mary’s gaze, her heart twisting when the younger woman looked seconds away from tears.

Scrabbling with her purse Janice took out the fifty quid in cash she had with her, reaching out and pressing into Mary’s hand before the woman could protest. “For the cab tomorrow and no arguing.”

“Thank you.” Mary replied stuffing the note into the pocket of her coat.

“You don’t need to thank me for doing the right and decent thing.” Janice insisted forcing one of her famous camera ready smiles to her face.

It was the right and decent thing to do and it would probably get easier with time but right now Janice needed to be home. She needed to be able to scream out her anger and betrayal, she needed the reassurance of Malcolm’s arms around her and his confident assertions that all of this would soon be behind her and the two of them could look to the future together.

\---/---


	17. Chapter 17

Day 22: 19.30pm Cassa McCann  
\---/---

“Please tell me that was that the last of them?” Malcolm muttered gratefully as he could finally emerge from the study when he had sequestered himself all day whilst he tried to do the job he was actually being paid for and provide flying media cover for Janice on the sly.

He had to be back in Edinburgh by the morning though and for some reason the very thought filled Malcolm with dread as he knew Janice would have to stay behind in Glasgow and take care of family business. They had become quite the team over the last few days, Malcolm providing the steady support that Janice needed whilst she unpicked the mess that only an unexpected death could have and Janice giving him a reason to want to stop working.

It seemed such a foolish thing to admit aloud but Malcolm had always been a workaholic, it along with his growing disinterest and his ex’s well emasculating nature had destroyed his marriage. Yet she had never made him feel needed or valued just for being there the way Janice did and it was a startling realisation to finally come to for a man in his fifties but Malcolm needed to be needed. He needed a partner who would upfront tell him and show him that they wanted him around just for him. Not one who would complain about his absence and then hold him at arm’s length whenever he did make an effort.

Ever conscious that they were not really alone and that Janice’s teenage son was somewhere in the house’ Malcolm hesitated as he watched Janice literally attack the pile of washing up that would not fit in the dishwasher. His fingers itched to pull her clearly agitated frame into his arms.

“Janice…would you stop for a minute and talk to me?” Malcolm added giving into the urge and catching the demon scrubbing woman by the cuff of her yellow marigolds; his frown growing as he caught sight of the angry tears that Janice stubbornly wiped away on her sleeve.

“Hey…Hey…” He muttered into her hair as Janice mulishly remained at the sink whilst the tears streamed down her face.

“Just ignore me I’m being pathetic.” Janice insisted forcing a smile through her tears that did little to convince Malcolm.

His concern touched her but Janice really wasn’t ready to admit to anyone not even Malcolm about this afternoon’s revelations.

Jackie had fathered another child and hidden the truth, using Janice as an excuse for abandoning his own child and yet she was the one who would have to clean up his mess. God knows how they would keep it out of the papers. Yet the child didn’t deserve to be hidden away like something sinful it wasn’t Isla’s fault her father was a…

Janice doubted right now there was a fitting word to describe Jackie McCann. So she would have to face it, tomorrow, but for right now she just wanted to push it away and forget for a little while.

“I will never ignore you when you are upset.” Malcolm insisted. “I might be a complete bast…” Malcolm began only to stop as Janice mock glared at him.

“Fine.” He huffed rolling his eyes a little. “I might be somewhat insensitive in other situations.”

“Thank you.” Janice muttered grateful for his indulgence of her pet hate.

“But…” Malcolm added as he hadn’t finished making his point. “I won’t just leave my girl to cry alone in the kitchen.”

Twisting so she could lay her cheek against Malcolm’s chest Janice couldn’t help but smile at his words. “So I’m your girl now am I?”

“You know very well that you are.” Malcolm replied before reaching down and catching Janice’s chin and lifting her face up from its hiding place, wiping of the residue of her tears away with his thumb.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you tried to change the subject to avoid answering my question.”

“Pedant.” Janice huffed.

“Prevaricating Princess.” Malcolm retorted tartly provoking Janice to childishly stick out her tongue.

“If you wiggle that in my direction princess I will not be responsible for my actions I will have you up against that bloody sink washing up or no washing up.”

Tongue quickly withdrawn Janice stared up at Malcolm through wet eyelashes. The mental image of Malcolm pressing her up against the kitchen cupboards as his hands explored underneath her black pencil skirt caused a sudden flush to stain her cheeks and Janice to bite down hard on her bottom lip to stifle the moan that wanted to escape…with mixed success.

“Don’t.” Malcolm warned her, feeling his own temperature sky rocket and the urge to tug at his collar grew pressing as he stared down into Janice’s darkening gaze and the suggestive way she bit down on that soft plump lip of hers. “Janice...”

God the way he said her name was not helping matters, and Janice could only imagine how he might moan it under other circumstances.

“Yes Malcolm?” Janice replied innocently as she pulled on the fingers of her marigolds.

One by one then tugging them off completely and twirling them suggestively. Dropping the gloves down on the side Janice turned so her front was now teasingly brushing against Malcolm’s own. Janice knew she was playing with fire, that she was rushing things when Malcolm had asked her to take things slow, but right now the idea of his hands moving over her skin was all she could think about.

Leaning back against the sink Janice lifted one of her stilettos and slowly ran the pointed heel up and over Malcolm’s calf.  
Later Malcolm would swear his hands had moved all on their own, that he had not been responsible for grabbing that damn perfect arse of hers and hauling Janice against him.

“For God’s sake woman tell me to stop.” Malcolm whispered against her mouth, before taking that plump bitten bottom lip in between his own and sucking on it lightly, swallowing down Janice’s whimper as his lips covered hers.

Fingers dug tightly into the curve of her backside as Malcolm pressed Janice back against the kitchen counter, his tongue teasing hers before struggling for breath Malcolm broke their kiss and dragged his mouth down to trail heat along her neck. “Tell me right now…”

Fingers digging into silver curls Janice dragged Malcolm’s mouth back to meet her own, her insistent kiss silencing any lingering doubts Malcolm may have about her intentions. There was no more need for words as Janice’s tongue duelled Malcolm for dominance and pushed his hands down along her thighs whilst Janice tugged up her skirt the best she could.

Stockings…that profound revelation actually managed to knock all rational thoughts completely out of Malcolm’s head and he was willing putty in Janice’s hands from that moment on…fingernails plucking at her suspenders and taking boyish glee in the sound of elastic on bare flesh…well until the sensation of Janice’s hand palming him through his trousers literally melted his mind.

“Fuck.” He couldn’t help the expletive; the word that had once been part of his everyday speech had suddenly never seemed so apt. Even so the sudden appearance of Janice’s nails as they pinched at his aching flesh had Malcolm feeling surprisingly penitent.

Yet somehow paying a simple fine no longer seemed like an appropriate penalty and Malcolm’s mushed mind quickly suggested a way his wicked tongue could earn its own forgiveness. Smirking against Janice’s lips Malcolm pressed one last breath stealing kiss against those plump kiss bruised lips of hers before dragging his mouth south.

Neck…collarbone…dragging his teeth against the visible cleft between her breasts before moving on despite Janice’s best efforts to move his mouth onto to her breast. Yet as soon as Malcolm lowered himself to his knees Janice’s insistent tugs on his silver curls suddenly stopped and Malcolm smirked up at her, taking a moment to savour her blown pupils and kissed reddened skin.  
Turning his head Malcolm traced the top of her stocking with his tongue before latching onto the smooth expanse of inner thigh sucking hard. The sudden buck as Janice writhed against him prompted Malcolm to reach and hold her hip fast, long fingers digging into the plump flesh of her arse.

“Easy girl.” Malcolm whispered across kiss damp skin, the sudden eruption of goosebumps across Janice’s skin and the barely smothered whimper more than enough to leave Malcolm smirking.

He would have loved nothing more than to drag this moment out, to tease Janice to within a hairs breath of her breaking point and leave her hanging there until she begged him to please just fuck her already. The very idea of such foul language tripping off of Janice’s tongue was enough to make Malcolm fully hard and he resolved to one day bring her to that point, to have her breathily combine his name with a whole litany of dirty words. Yet time was definitely not on their side, Janice’s son could chose to get a drink or something to eat at any moment.

Tugging her knickers down Malcolm all but growled as Janice merely kicked them off; leaning back against the kitchen unit for support as she spread her legs for him. Burrowing his face between her thighs Malcolm wasn’t surprised to discover that Janice was as well-groomed downstairs as she was everywhere else. A simple strip of shortly cropped dark curls stood between him and his prize and Malcolm pursued that the same determination he gave everything else in his life, savouring Janice’s sudden intake of breath as his tongue flicked over her clit.

Eating pussy had never been something Malcolm particularly enjoyed. He did it for his ex because once upon a time he had loved her and then later on in his marriage it had been the only way to grovel his way back into her good books. Even now on his knees on the kitchen floor as he teased and sucked and rasped his teeth across that sensitive little nub Malcolm had no sudden epiphany that made him suddenly love it.

For fucks sake this wasn’t a mills and boon novel. Yet he did love Janice’s response.

She mewled and bucked and writhed and tugged on his hair and whimpered and whispered his name like it was something amazing and perfect, like he was amazing and perfect, and Malcolm felt a swelling of pride and accomplishment that matched the aching swelling between his own thighs. So when Janice’s hair tugging became hair pulling as she tried to get him to stand back up Malcolm resisted longer than he normally would. About twenty seconds longer but it was the thought that counted.

When Janice bodily slammed him back against the kitchen table Malcolm let her. He was a willing spectator as she practically ripped open his fly and an even more enthusiastic participant as she curled her fingers around his newly freed cock and gave him a very friendly stroke or two. Yet when she tried to straddle him on the table whimpering in frustration as her damn skirt meant she couldn’t quite lift her leg high enough Malcolm was more than happy to take charge once more.

When Malcolm rolled her under him Janice practically cried out in relief. It had been so long…too long since she had felt the weight of a man on top of her, let alone the weight of a man she had genuine feelings for, feelings that were mutual. She more than gladly assisted him with the last barrier, her fingers gently guiding his cock inside her, relishing in the sorely missed feeling of fullness and the slight burn as Malcolm thrust in gently.

Storm grey eyes bore down into her face as if searching for any sign or reticence of discomfort and Janice wanted to kiss Malcolm for being so damn sweet about it even as part of her wanted to scream at him to hurry up and screw her senseless already. She was more than ready for this, Malcolm had made damn sure of that with his talented tongue and now Janice wanted him to finish what he had started with those sinful strokes of his.

No finish what he had started the moment she had first walked into that damn office, she wanted to be fucked by Malcolm Tucker. Digging her nails into the exposed curve of Malcolm’s backside Janice urged him on, an excited whimper escaping her lips as finally…finally Malcolm did just that.

\---/---


	18. Chapter 18

Day 23: Casa McCann too early to worry about

\---/---

It was a strange feeling, one that Malcolm Tucker sadly took too long to recognise for what it was and for a moment that realisation dimmed the happiness he was feeling. Then Janice mumbled in her sleep, nuzzling her face into his bare shoulder and that rarely felt joy bubbled up again.

Twisting his head so he could watch Janice sleep Malcolm was content to stay right here, for once his mind was calm and not racing ahead with a thousand different plans. He had never been a man to be happy living in the moment yet this was a moment Malcolm would gladly languish in. The idea of having to get up and leave all this behind caused a momentary frown to pass over his face…then Janice sleepily blinked open her eyes and the feeling evaporated.

For a moment Janice stared up into Malcolm’s smiling face, her waking mind finally connecting the dots…Malcolm was really here in her bed…she was naked…so was he and they had…

Janice wasn’t sure whether it was the memory of the night before that caused her to blush or the fact that as a woman of almost forty she still blushed at the idea of sex that caused her face to bloom brilliant red. Embarrassed she hid her face in Malcolm’s shoulder her mortification growing as Malcolm had the nerve to laugh at her.

“I am I really that unpleasant to look at in the morning?” Malcolm teased as tried to cajole Janice round.

“No but I must be.” Janice mumbled god only knows what she looked like; it wasn’t like she had paused to take off her make up last night and as for her hair… “I don’t want you to see me like this…”

“Janice believe me I will never tire of seeing you like this.” Malcolm replied his leer obvious in his tone as his hands ran up under the covers over her naked curves.

Huffing and squirming as Malcolm’s fingers teased her sensitive skin Janice lifted her red face from his shoulder. “I meant my hair’s a mess and my makeup…”

“I have seen you with no makeup on before.” Malcolm reminded her.

“Yes but that was before.” Janice huffed only continuing when Malcolm’s raised eyebrow promoted her. “Before I knew you liked me back.”

“Like? Like is such a rubbish word. No one uses like for anything these days. I might occasionally like coleslaw on my salad for example.” Malcolm retorted smugly earning him an eyeroll from Janice. “Am I boring you?”

“Not all of us use words as weapons to impale our victims Malcolm.” Janice tutted before squealing in surprise as Malcolm’s dexterous fingers attacked her ticklish spots.

“Believe me I wouldn’t chose such suggestive words where you are concerned.” Lifting one hand from its tickle attack Malcolm pressed it lightly over Janice’s mouth to stifle her giggles. “Honestly do you want to alert the whole neighbourhood woman?”

Laughing against his hand Janice relished the look of surprise on Malcolm’s face as she bit down into the flesh of his palm, sucking on the flesh between her lips.

“I’ve created a monster.” Malcolm huffed as he toyed between pulling his hand free and allowing Janice to continue her teasing.

Pressing a kiss to the skin she had been abusing Janice reached up and squeezed it gently, her head tilting as she caught Malcolm’s gaze. “What makes you think you created anything…maybe it was always here just hidden away and maybe…maybe you just make me not want to hide anymore? You can’t know how freeing it feels to finally have someone who wants me, who wants to know me, the good and the bad…just me as I really am.”

Swallowing nervously as those blue eyes bored into his own Malcolm suddenly found himself without words. He honestly didn’t know how to respond; Janice’s honest words made his chest ache yet Malcolm knew it was too soon for those words. Too soon to be sure for either of them and the one thing Malcolm knew for certain was that he never wanted to hurt this woman and saying something now that he would later regret would devastate them both.

Yet he had to say something. Janice was there staring up at him, those gorgeous eyes of hers staring into his soul, making him feel things, making him feel human and not an unfeeling machine. He had to say something, anything, and yet the words just wouldn’t come.

“I…you…” Malcolm could feel a blush of his own burning his cheeks, his eyes pleading with Janice to understand. “Please…”

God those eyes of his were her undoing. At first when Malcolm had remained silent Janice had feared the worst and yet perhaps it was more powerful when Malcolm couldn’t speak, his message came across all the clearer because of it. Leaning up she cut off his unintelligible babble with a chaste kiss, the lightest touch of her lips, a smile lighting up Janice’s face as she brushed her nose playfully against Malcolm’s own.

“Do you realise we’ve been talking for all of five minutes and you haven’t cursed once.” Janice observed wryly, savouring Malcolm’s scowl before adding. “Who says old dogs can’t learn new…”

Growling like the very animal Janice was accusing him of being Malcolm turned them both and pinned her beneath him, his silver eyebrows furrowed deeply as Janice continued to giggle up at him.

“You should be very careful Janice.” Malcolm warned her pressing the length of his body against Janice’s own. “Lest I chose to rut you like a randy old dog.”

Biting her lip Janice didn’t even attempt to stifle her moan, her blue eyes wide as the warmth of Malcolm’s body and the challenge in his eyes lit a fire of her own. Reaching up she threaded her fingers into Malcolm’s hair tugging him down until her whispered words brushed across his skin.

“Well there are worse ways to wake up in the morning.”

\---/---


	19. Chapter 19

Day 23: 22.30 Malcolm’s office

\---/---

As he chewed on the stale sandwich one of the secretaries had left behind for him Malcolm found himself missing Janice. He tried to stop himself, tried to focus on the campaign speech he was meant to have finished already. Yet it was far harder than Malcolm had anticipated to be away from her, his mind kept resurrecting memories from the night before and they were far too difficult to merely push away. Staying at her flat alone tonight, sleeping in the bed that would smell of Janice…oh he was a dead man.

“Focus you idiot.” Malcolm hissed to himself, rubbing cramping hands over his face, hands drawing down wrinkled skin till he resembled a basset hound all droopy eyes and hanging jowls.

Normally he would have finished this damn speech hours ago but it was hard line to balance, to write something that was good enough to not to alert people to his true purpose but not good enough to actually help the Yes campaign gain ground. It wasn’t helping matters that this role of spy that he had once relished now felt like a weight around his neck, one that was growing heavier and heavier the longer he spent in the job.

He was lying to everyone. Normally such a thing wouldn’t bother him, Malcolm was a spin doctor creating versions of the truth was what he did best, still there was a difference between spinning a story for the public and lying to the woman you were sleeping with.

Getting out his phone Malcolm toyed with the idea of calling Janice. They had exchanged texts during the day, the usual post sex awkward exchanges that screamed out their desire to reconnect and their hesitancy about where the boundary of their relationship had shifted to. This was new ground for them both and Malcolm couldn’t help but feel like a nervous teenager again wondering if it was too soon to call back the girl he liked.

Not here…

He wasn’t putting it off; not really, Malcolm almost convinced himself as he finished the draft of the speech into his bag and tipped the remains of his sandwich dinner into the bin. His cupboard of an office just wasn’t the place from which to call his…lover…girlfriend? No it was also too soon for labels.

Switching off the light and stomping off down the abandoned corridors Malcolm was wondering if he had enough cash left to grab a takeaway on the way home. That dry cheese sandwich just hadn’t hit the spot and Malcolm found himself already craving the home cooking Janice had frankly spoiled him with.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the car parked up just a little down the street, barely paid it a second glance his thoughts full of curry and Janice, well not until the window slid down as he passed and a familiar voice stopped him dead.

“So you’re not fucking dead then?”

Startled Malcolm stopped and stared. “What are you doing here?”

“You don’t write, you don’t call, you don’t even reply to my messages.” Jamie’s Caledonian drawl didn’t hide how pissed his former subordinate was and when he nodded for Malcolm to get his backside in the car Malcolm didn’t pause before complying.

“I left my other phone at the flat.” Malcolm muttered defensively as he sank down into the fine leather seats, the car moving the moment he had closed the door. “Besides I thought I was meant to use it to contact you not the other way around Jamie.”

“Aye when you don’t go bloody awol for days.” Jamie huffed, blue eyes narrowing as if his gaze could pin Malcolm against the upholstery.

“I was busy.” Malcolm retorted. “Busy doing the shitty job you asked me to take.”

“But that’s just it Malcolm I don’t recall asking you to fuck your way through the Yes Campaign.” Jamie scoffed.

Freezing for a moment before he could control his reaction Malcolm knew that pause alone was enough to either confirm Jamie’s suspicions or worse let his former colleague know that his relationship with Janice was not something Malcolm was expecting him to know about.

“Look Malcolm I’m not here to spy on you.” Jamie added with a hint of his former charm. “I don’t give a damn which fillies you fuck, just make sure you do the damn job you were sent here to do.”

“I am doing.” Malcolm all but growled.

“Yeah when you’re not taking trips to Glasgow to help out your new squeeze on the side.” Jamie sniggered. “Please this is me you are talking to. I know what you are really capable of when you try and so far what you’re delivered has been so below the Tucker Standard that frankly it’s fucking embarrassing.”

“It’s not as fucking easy as it sounds Jamie.” Malcolm replied, internally wincing at the curse word that being back in Jamie’s company so briefly already fell from his lips, god Janice was already getting into his head. “These people are close knit; they close ranks and its taking longer to win their trust than I thought it would.”

“So you’ve taken to screwing their secrets out of them eh?” Jamie retorted with a smirk. “Fine whatever works just remember to keep your head and your cock separate alright.”

“I am not using sex for access…and Janice would never…”

“Fuck man don’t tell me you are doing this because you really like the woman? I mean sure she’s good looking enough for a quick…” Jamie began only for Malcolm’s glare and growl to stop him dead. “Shit!”

“Look I can handle it, I did handle it, and besides it’s not like she is even involved in the campaign any longer.” Malcolm defended himself.

“Aye and just who does she have to thank for that?” Jamie countered with a pointed verbal jab. “I mean shit Malcolm you destroyed her career, you fucking hung her out to dry for the press to take pots shots at and now her fucking husband’s dead and you’re what picking up the slack?”

Clenching his fists Malcolm had never been more tempted to smack that smug little smirk off of Jamie’s face. “Pull the car over.”

“Why so you can storm off into the night like a fucking teenage girl?” Jamie sniggered.

“No so I can kick the shit out of you like you deserve.” Malcolm replied seriously.

Surprised Jamie actually paused for a moment before replying, only a moment but in that time the two men sized each other up. “No I don’t think you will.” Jamie finally added.

“Right now I wouldn’t be so bloody sure.” Malcolm growled in reply.

“And give up all chance of that cushy exec job I don’t think so.”

“There are other jobs.” Malcolm countered, surprising himself by his reply. He was bluffing…surely he was bluffing.

“There are other women.” Jamie raised the stakes, tilting his head to examine Malcolm like he was seeing him properly for the first time. “Or maybe there isn’t? Tell me Malcolm how do you think the grieving widow would react if she found out her current lover was the one to sell her out?”

“You wouldn’t.” Malcolm bluffed, it would make no sense, Janice would go straight to the campaign and tell them about it. Jamie would lose his spy, Malcolm his job and the No campaign would take a serious press battering.

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean so far you’ve been next to useless. There is very little that could be traced back to No even if the opposition tried, we’d just spin it as you trying to claw back whatever career you had left and failing spectacularly.” Jamie reminded him. “And you would be left with nothing.”

“What do you want?” Malcolm finally conceded.

“You to do the job you were sent here to do and leave your love life alone until after the votes been counted.” Jamie hissed all manner of civility long gone as the car suddenly came to a stop again. “I mean if it’s not too much to fucking ask?”

He had no choice. Malcolm would have to do his best to avoid Janice until his position was more secure again, he could find the excuses, good excuses so she wouldn’t be hurt too badly. “Fine.”

Suddenly all smiles again Jamie waved Malcolm towards the car door. “Well it’s been a fucking pleasure as always Malcolm.”

Getting out of the car Malcolm took petty pleasure in slamming the door behind him. His earlier happiness now a thing of the distant past as he stomped up the stairs to the flat mulling over Jamie’s threat in his head. He could do this, he just needed to find something, something big, or manufacture it if he had to. Then he could leave all this mess behind and move on and up, and maybe just maybe if this whole fucking thing actually went as planned he would have someone to share his success with.

\---/---


	20. Chapter 20

Day 25: Casa McCann 3.00am  
\---/---  
She should have been sleeping but Janice McCann couldn’t help but sit up and watch the clock. It was a familiar scenario, one that Janice had repeated during far too many years of her marriage. Only this time it wasn’t her husband she was waiting up for but her son.

  
Wee Jackie had not taken the news he had a half-sister well.

  
Janice had done her best to explain the situation, her seventeen year old son had at least sat there and listened to her, but Janice had been foolish to believe that his silence was anything like calm acceptance. Instead he had waited until Janice had finished talking and a rather awkward silence had descended before he spoke. Even now the memory of her own son calling her fucking fool was burnt into Janice’s memory.

  
Wee Jackie had never raised his voice to her before, not like that.

  
This was not the petulant grousing of a teenager told to clean up his room or do his homework; it had been the grief fuelled rage of a young man. For a moment as he all but towered over her, face red from yelling his fists clenched in angry restraint Janice had actually been frightened of her own boy. She hadn’t been able to speak, the words had deserted Janice and it had actually been a relief when Jackie had stormed out the house with a few foul parting words.

  
That fear had taken far longer than expected to dissipate. Janice had sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands as she tried to calm herself down. The urge to call Malcolm had been uppermost in her mind and yet Janice had hesitated. Malcolm had enough on his plate without adding on her dramas as well.

  
He had already sounded distant on the phone the night before, politely dismissive if Janice had to describe it. He had made apologies for not having called the night before, work was insane and Janice had felt guilty knowing that his trips to Glasgow to support her had significantly contributed to that. Janice couldn’t risk losing him too. Malcolm had already finagled his way into her life and into her heart and having already wrecked her career, her son hating her, her husband dead he was all she had left.

  
Janice tried not the dwell on just how pathetic that sounded.

  
The sudden slam of the front door had Janice springing off the sofa. “Jackie?”

  
The muttered curse word her son barely bothered to hide let Janice knew he had heard her call.

  
“Jackie McCann I won’t stand for language like that in my house.” Janice insisted as she turned the corner and caught sight of her son rummaging in the well-stocked fridge.

  
“Well why don’t you fuck off back to Edinburgh then?” Jackie retorted as he grabbed a wedge of cheese and took a large bite out of it. “It’s not like you want to be here, you left me and Da behind happily enough and besides this is my house now I can do and say what I like.”

  
Huffing Janice prised the abused cheese from Jackie’s grip, reaching into the draw for a knife and cutting off a piece with the teeth marks and reaching for the bread to at least make a proper sandwich. “This is my house Jackie, your father and I were still married which means everything comes to me. You’ll only get your inheritance after I die.”

  
Sulking as he leant back against the kitchen units wee Jackie deigned to accept the hastily made cheese sandwich but he made a point of ignoring the plate his mother had furnished him with and happily dropped crumbs over the floor. “Why won’t don’t you just die then.” He retorted cruelly.

  
If she hadn’t had the support of the kitchen unit at her back Janice’s knees would have buckled. “You don’t mean that Jackie.” Janice replied trying to force some certainty into her voice. “I know you are angry right now but you can’t say things like that. I know underneath there is still the boy I raised, the young man who just the other day offered to help me.”

  
“Yeah well that was before…"

  
“Before your sister?”

  
“She is not my sister!” Jackie insisted slamming down the remains of his sandwich on the side. “They are playing you mother only your too much of an idiot to see it. Well I drag you through every court I have to before I have a penny of my inheritance go to support that slapper and her bastard.”

  
“Fine then we go to court and they’ll order a DNA test which will come back confirming she’s your sister and then we will be even worse off then we are now. We won’t be in control of how much we pay-out and the family name will have been dragged through the mud again.” Janice insisted trying to reach her stubborn son. “This is the lessor of two evils believe me Jackie.”

  
“Why should I believe you?” Jackie retorted stubbornly yet Janice could tell his certainty was wavering. “I mean you just want to pay her off so you can sod off back to Edinburgh.”

  
“I am not going back to Edinburgh Jackie.” Janice reached laying her hand on her son’s arm. “I am not going to leave you to deal with this on your own.”

  
Allowing his mother’s touch Jackie still avoided her gaze. “You did before why should now be any different?”

  
“Oh sweetheart I never left you behind.” Janice insisted even as her son’s claims dug into her heart. “I had a job to do and I was home for more of your life than your father ever was.” Janice added bitterly, biting her lip too late.

  
“Don’t you dare talk about my Da like that!” Jackie yelled his blue eyes narrowing angrily on his mother as he shook off her touch. “First you accuse him of sleeping around when you were the one acting the slapper and now…”

  
“Jackie!” Janice exclaimed, that was the second time someone named Jackie McCann had called her a slapper and it stung just as deeply the second time. “Your father was no innocent he had far more lovers then I ever did.”

  
“Stop lying.” Jackie snapped. “Who that lying whore Mary?”

  
“Not just her you knew more of them than you realised… dear god he even moved one in with us.”

  
It took a moment for the penny to drop “Rab?” Jackie’s face drained of all colour. “Are you calling my father a fucking fag?”

  
“You father slept with both men and women.” Janice corrected him. “I know it’s a shock but it’s the truth and I won’t have you using that foul language under my roof.”

  
“Fine.” Jackie curtly replied his blue eyes blazing with anger as he turned and marched out the kitchen.

  
“Jackie?” Janice followed him nervously, her concern growing as instead of storming upstairs to his bedroom her son headed for the front door. “Jackie where are you going its gone four in the morning?”

  
“Out from under your roof.” Jackie replied, punctuating his words by slamming the door shut behind him and leaving his stunned mother to simply stare at the closed door in shock and growing despair.

  
\---/---


	21. Chapter 21

\---/---  
Day 32: The will reading  
\---/---

Tense was not the word. Janice would have given anything, to be able to go over and give her son a hug, but from the death glare wee Jackie had shot her the moment he had arrived, with some pretty blonde girl in tow, and Janice had stood as if to go over…well she knew her son still hadn’t forgiven her.

Pulling out her mobile, Janice checked it again. She had switched it to silent long before she had come into her solicitor’s office. The last thing she needed was it going off mid-way through the reading. Yet one glance at the screen confirmed it, no messages.

Malcolm was probably busy, in a meeting possibly, maybe he had even left it at home…

Or perhaps he was just ignoring her?

Swallowing down that thought, it tasted bitter, and unfortunately the flavour lingered, Janice tried her best to concentrate on the here and now.

“…and being of sound mind and body…”

Malcolm hadn’t taken her call the night before either. Three missed calls before Janice had finally received a brief text message, saying he was sorry but Malcolm couldn’t talk now, he’d call her later. Only he hadn’t called.

“…to my brother James I leave my collection of…”

It had been late; Malcolm had probably forgotten he had promised to call. Yet deep in her heart doubt was beginning to creep in. This always happened to her didn’t it? She met someone, they showed an interest or she deluded herself that they had, then they went to bed together and then they couldn’t get away fast enough.

It had happened with Rab and Martin, and now it seemed Malcolm too, despite all his promises. Hell the only reason it hadn’t happened with Jackie, was that as a good Catholic girl Janice had kept her legs crossed, until after their wedding. Her husband’s interest in her had soon waned as well. If it hadn’t been for wee Jackie, and Janice’s complete blindness to his numerous affairs throughout their marriage, well no doubt Jackie would have left her as well.

What was wrong with her?

Was she terrible in bed?

Wasn’t she attractive enough?

“That’s a load of bullshit!”

Startled by the expletive in the previously quiet room, Janice felt her cheeks burn, as she came out of her daze to find the room dividing their attention, between her and her irate son.

Wee Jackie had gotten to his feet, pale face unusually red, those blue eyes she had given him fixed on her in anger.

“My father wouldn’t have left her in charge of my money!”

Ah the trust fund. It took a moment for Janice to realise what had wee Jackie so riled. It really hadn’t been her husband’s idea, their financial advisor had insisted on it, as a just in case. A what if something happened to one, or either of them, whilst Jackie was still a minor, it was to protect their son’s inheritance from an unscrupulous guardian like her father.

Shooting Mr Green her solicitor an apologetic glance, Janice tried to reach out to her son, her heart sinking as he pushed her hand away and instead grabbed the hand of his newest girlfriend.

“Jackie love please…Your father did this for you, it’s a lot of money, and you aren’t old enough to handle…”

“So I’m just supposed to watch as you spend it for me?” Jackie demanded, barely biting down on his tongue before blurting out words about spending it on appeasing all the fortune hunters, after his father’s money.

“Jackie even I can’t touch that money.” Janice insisted, trying to reach out to the child under the angry young man, who was taking out his grief on her.

“Your mother is quite correct she cannot access or withdraw funds from your trust fund without the co signatory of myself. Even then it needs to be for the specific purposes as set out in the trust fund agreement, school or university fees for example.” Mr Green added, pulling out his pocket handkerchief and mopping at his brow.

“I assure you Mr McCann your inheritance will remain intact, you will gain access to the first portion upon your 21st Birthday, the remainder will be held until your 30th.”

If Jackie had almost calmed down, then the news that he would have to wait until he was 30, to get access to his full inheritance, quickly had him jumping up from his seat again. This time her son wouldn’t listen to reason, and with a glare that promised retribution, he turned and stormed out of the meeting room, his unknown girlfriend scrambling to follow him.

Sinking down into her chair, Janice had never felt the need for a drink quite so strongly. Her son hated her. Her philandering husband was dead and she carried much if not all of the guilt for his accident. Her career was over; it was only a matter of time before her own local party asked for her resignation formally.

And her lover…she should let Malcolm go, should maintain the semblance of some dignity and yet her heart wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

\---/---

There were times in his life that Malcolm knew he had been a complete tosser. He had bullied his way through entire swaths of government employees, run roughshod over elected officials and he routinely forgot to phone his mother on her birthday…and mother’s day…and Christmas…

Yet as he looked down at his phone, his finger hovering over the delete button before he had even opened Janice’s latest message, well Malcolm now knew what feeling like a complete bastard felt like. He just needed a little more time.

Malcolm had thrown himself into his work after Jamie’s intervention. He was right, he had been sent here to do a job, and by that secure his own future. Could he really have been on the cusp of throwing all that away for a woman? The delusion that he could somehow get and keep both, was a daydream, one that was fading with every morning Malcolm woke up alone.  
Who was he trying to kid here? He hadn’t managed to retain a single relationship in his life. His ex-wife despised him, he had no friends, only former colleagues and bitter enemies, and even his own mother had long given up expecting her prodigal child to return her calls. The only thing he was good at, had been good at, was his work. It was something he had achieved and Malcolm couldn’t sacrifice that now, not for a relationship he would probably fuck up in short order anyway.

It was a kindness really…at least that was the bullshit Malcolm was trying to convince himself.

To let Janice go now before he really hurt her and dear god hadn’t he already destroyed her life enough? Career destroyed, by him, not that Janice knew that thank god, estranged husband dead, dead because Janice had defended him. Malcolm didn’t grieve the loss of Jackie McCann, and he hoped that Janice didn’t either, yet the destruction of her relationship with her son was directly related to it.

Feeling suddenly sick Malcolm excused himself from the scrum meeting, heading quickly to the nearest bathroom.

Leaning against the sink Malcolm took in several deep breaths. He had managed, successfully, or so he thought, to suppress thoughts of Jackie McCann and those few terrifying moments, when he thought the former footballer was going to rape him. Suppressed them so completely and thrown himself into a relationship with Janice as a distraction. He was certain that was what any fancy pants therapist would tell him, if he deigned to ask.

These feelings weren’t real, they couldn’t be real. They were too, just too overwhelming to be anything other than a side effect of PTSD. This dependence was unhealthy, Malcolm had quickly become addicted to being needed, and it had shocked him how empty his life felt without that crazy little brunette. He had to stop it now whilst he still could, before he did something truly stupid, like acting on those feelings. It wasn’t like they would last, they never did.

It was a mistake, it was cruel and these feelings Malcolm was feeling couldn’t be real. It was just the trauma making him emotional. He should be in counselling, not a relationship.

So why hadn’t he ended it yet then?

The cold part of him pretended it was just the convenient use of Janice’s flat that stopped him. True he had now been paid; finally he could afford to get that winter coat, to afford basic groceries, even if for him that only extended to the heady heights of cheese, bread, Fanta and some tangerines. Paying for even the cheapest hotel would seriously impact his cash flow but Malcolm could afford it if he had to.

It would be the decent thing to do, to put the poor woman out of her misery. And not by text, even he wasn’t that much of a bastard.

Splashing some water on his face, Malcolm stared at his pale reflection.

It was this fucking city, there was no bloody sun. As soon as he got himself out of this shithole he would take a holiday, somewhere warm, somewhere exotic, somewhere that meant he could avoid running into Janice. Hell Malcolm was happy to never set foot north of the border again; he owed her that much, and so what if he was running away?

He had to do it. He would feel better once he had done it. Now before he lost his nerve again.

Pulling his phone back out of his pocket Malcolm’s finger hovered over the return call button, hitting it quickly, his throat closing up as the icon showed the dialling sign. He could do this…he could…he…can’t…

No…No….Malcolm smashed his thumb over the end call button, one, twice, fumbling as for a moment he thought he heard it connect and Janice’s whispered…”Malcolm??”

Dropping the phone Malcolm was almost relieved when it hit the concrete hard, the expensive screen cracking, little spider webs spreading over the glass top. Well he had fucked that right up.

When had he become such a coward? When did Malcolm Tucker start caring about hurting anyone?

\---/---


	22. Chapter 22

Day 32: Janice’s Flat 8pm

\---/---

She had called, had left messages, none of them had been answered and besides it was her flat; Janice had every right to use it. Despite telling herself this over and over, Janice still couldn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach from churning. She needed answers, she had a right to answers, Malcolm had led her to believe he had strong feelings for her, and then suddenly he had vanished. Even so it still felt a little duplicitous to simply let herself in.

So Janice had done what she always did, when she felt unsettled, she cleaned and cooked. The flat hadn’t been that untidy, not to her standards certainly, but Malcolm was clearly capable of clearing up after himself, which was more than could be said for Janice’s late husband or even her son. Then when even she couldn’t find anything further to clean, Janice had popped out and picked up a few things for dinner.

Judging by the meagre contents in the fridge, Malcolm had been subsisting on an unhealthy diet of cheese, more cheese, white bread and Fanta; supplemented by the occasional take away.

As she slaved away over crumbing the rack of lamb, and sliced potatoes for the dauphinoise, Janice refused to consider her actions in anyway bribery or a trap. Sipping a glass of the pinot noir, Janice tried her best to also swallow her nerves. She was just cooking dinner. The fact that conversation over dinner would probably be akin to an interrogation, abated what little appetite Janice had.

Happy that the food could be left on low without supervision, Janice headed back into her bedroom. Studiously avoiding Malcolm’s clothes, which were hanging in her closet, Janice reached in and retrieved the red dress that Malcolm had saved from her clothing purge. He had said she looked fabulous in it, and right now Janice was feeling insecure enough to need that little bit of extra reassurance.

Janice was just zipping it up, when she heard the jangle of keys in the front door. Ignoring the butterflies that were now fighting to erupt from her throat, Janice stepped into a pair of shiny black stilettos, her fingers reaching up to unpin her hair. Pausing to catch her reflection in the dressing table mirror, Janice dragged her fingers through her locks, tousling them into a state of elegant dishevelment. It was now or never, she couldn’t hide away in her bedroom, if she wanted Malcolm to view her as a powerful desirable woman, then she had at least try to act like it.

Muttering a prayer under her breath, Janice stepped to bedroom door, forcing what she hoped was a seductive expression to her face. Leaning against the doorjamb, she watched for a moment, as Malcolm seemed frozen just inside the front door.

“Why Hello there lover.”

\---/---

It had been a hell of a day.

Malcolm had been dragged from press event to press event, he had to step in repeatedly, as the MSP he was “handling” for the day, routinely forgot key details, hell he even forgot the name of the critical local Yes campaigner, who he was supposed to be thanking. Malcolm had had his work cut out smoothing that little issue out. Worse of all, he was still no closer to uncovering the sort of scandal that Jamie was looking for. Malcolm was slowly coming to the realisation, that if there were skeletons in these closets, they were probably of the dullest variety that honestly nobody would even care.

Throughout the day, Malcolm hadn’t been able to completely ignore the broken phone in his pocket; it weighed far heavier than it had any right to.

Right now he just wanted to crash, to sink into a hot bath with a large whiskey, to allow himself to daydream about that white beach, soft summer breeze, as he swung lazily in a hammock in the shade.

Stepping inside the flat Malcolm pulled up in surprise…

The lights were on, he could smell cooking and…

“Why Hello there lover.”

His body turned for him, and Malcolm felt his heart pound so hard in his chest, he almost thought it would burst through his rib cage. She was here…Janice was here…and with just one look at her Malcolm felt his previous resolutions evaporate.

What a fucking idiot he had been. She was gorgeous, and more than that, so much more.

Janice was trying to act sexy, not that she needed to try, Malcolm thought she was gorgeous wearing her marigolds. Yet she was trying to act the sophisticated seductress, wearing that red dress she knew he liked, hair gorgeously dishevelled and those heels of hers. Still even more appealing than the physical picture, was the slightly awkward way she draped herself against the doorframe. Like someone who had seen a seduction in the movies, one from the 1940’s, and was trying adorably to recreate it…for him.

For whatever reason it was working, and Malcolm went from dead on his feet to wide awake. He wanted her…Now.

Three paces. Malcolm was practically on top her before the surprise could register on Janice’s face. His hands cradling her face and pulling it up to meet his own descending lips. It was a hard kiss, far more aggressive than normal, and when Janice’s squeaked a little in surprise, Malcolm forced himself to relax it. Want, loneliness, relief, guilt, need and sheer joy, Malcolm tried to convey every single bubbling colliding feeling.

It was overwhelming, she was being possessed entirely and Janice couldn’t help but panic a little. It was almost too much. Pressing lightly on Malcolm’s chest, Janice gulped in air when her lover acquiesced to her hint, releasing her lips if not the rest of her. His lips trailed over her cheek, forehead, pressed his own cheek against her hair, as Malcolm wrapped her up in his arms.

“That was some hello.” Janice muttered into Malcolm’s shoulder, feeling the tremble of his laugh though her palms before it bubbled out of his lips.

“Well I had to make up for my appearance somehow.” Malcolm teased, fingers raking through her long hair. “Not all of us had the afternoon to spend getting gorgeous.”

“Humphh.” Janice wasn’t sure if she should smack him for that comment. So what if she took pride in her appearance, it was all for him, the idiot.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it.” Malcolm added quickly, hand sliding down the curve of her back to cup her backside, there was a very particular reason he liked this dress. “Still it does leave me feeling a little inadequate.”

Impish…Wicked…Yet the idea once taken root could not be dissuaded and Janice resolved to do several additional Hail Mary’s later just to compensate.

Sliding her hand down between them, Janice traced the outline of Malcolm’s cock with her fingernails, savouring his strangled gasp. “Hmmm you don’t feel inadequate to me.”

“Janice…” Malcolm all but hissed her name, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he balanced on a knife edge. “If you keep that up I won’t be held responsible…”

“Hmmm.” The smile playing about her lips was pure devilment, and Janice relished for once being in the position of power. “Promise?”

\---/---

Cocooned in 500 thread count sheets, the bone deep relaxation that only came after sex, good satisfying sex, Malcolm moaned, a combination of pleasure and protest, as Janice’s fingers trailed down his stomach and began to play with him once more.

“Woman are you trying to kill me?” Malcolm muttered, yet his words lacked any bite, he had no energy left to fight her. “Leave him be he’s napping.” He added as Janice’s fingernails teased sex sore flesh.

Tutting Janice removed her hand, sliding it up over Malcolm’s bare chest, fingers tangling in the dusting of hair over his chest, which she pulled on lightly, before pressing her mouth to his pale skin. Kisses, nips, her tongue flicking over his nipple, Janice savoured every whimper and squirm. She was being a little unfair; Malcolm had already made her come twice, once on his fingers, then on his cock.

Yet she had been so starved of human contact in this last week; had missed the comfort that could only be found through skin on skin. Janice craved it, she craved him. Sex with Malcolm was like a drug, one she was happily growing addicted to. For the first time she had a real man in her bed, one who seemed to give a damn that she enjoyed herself just as much as she did. In fact Malcolm seemed to take distinct pride in being able to make her scream his name. So if she couldn’t persuade Malcolm to bed her again, Janice could at least ensure she got in as much cuddling as she wanted.

He shouldn’t laugh, yet it was difficult not to when Janice shifted and began to literally wrap herself around him. Legs entangled, arms wrapped around his back, her face pressed into the crook of his neck, as Janice literally seemed to burrow into his skin. “I see someone missed me.”

It was said and meant as a joke, and yet Malcolm felt Janice tense, and he cursed himself. They had moved so quickly into bed together that the elephant in the room had been easily ignored, and now here he was blundering back into it. There was no denying how he had behaved in the last few days, ignoring Janice’s calls, not replying to her messages, Janice was bound to ask, and Malcolm couldn’t avoid answering. The unspoken question hung there between them, the “why didn’t you miss me”?

And yet Janice wasn’t asking it. The silence stretched out uncomfortably between them. Malcolm wasn’t used to it. Words were his thing. He could usually, insult, offend, threaten and then plot, charm and cajole people around in less than a minute. Silence was not something he could handle and that actually scared him.

So they just lay there. The previous light mood dissipated.

Speak you god damn coward. Malcolm was internally berating himself. He could feel Janice pulling away from him, shutting down emotionally and literally pulling away from him…Malcolm’s hand tightened on her hip, holding Janice fast when she moved to disentangle them.

“I need to sort out dinner.” Janice’s excuse sounded weak even to her own ears. It was only part of the reason for her retreat and they both knew it.

“Leave it...just st…”

“It will burn and I put too much effort in to it.” Janice insisted, moving her own hands to push Malcolm’s hands from her body.

Reluctantly Malcolm let her go, watched awkwardly as Janice retrieved his shirt from it had landed on the bedroom floor, slipped it on and then slipped out of the bedroom.

“Fuck….fuck…fuck fuck fuckkity fuck!” Malcolm cursed, slamming his palms down against the mattress. It didn’t hurt the way he deserved, yet it did allow him to vent some of his growing tension.

He had to sort this. Janice’s sudden reappearance had been like a jolt of much needed reality in Malcolm’s increasingly warped world. He more than liked her and she seemed, for whatever reason, to return those feelings. He was almost fifty, homeless, barely making ends meet, little prospects and yet this incredible woman wanted him in her life and he was fucking it all up.

He had to tell her…just what he was going to tell her Malcolm wasn’t exactly sure…yet he had to tell her something.

Slipping out of the bed Malcolm grabbed his boxers, hopping and crashing about as he practically floored himself in his haste. Entering the lounge Malcolm could see Janice fussing over far too much food in the kitchen. Approaching her carefully and quietly Malcolm paused as he watched her swipe at something on her face, and then again, then a sniff.

“No…no…no…” He was in denial and he was also commanding her to stop. Janice McCann was never to cry, not over him.

Crossing the remaining distance Malcolm wrapped his arms around Janice, pulling her back against his chest. “Shush…darling I’m sorry….I am so sorry….please please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry….I just don’t seem to be…I’m sorry.” Janice wished she could stop, yet for some reason her eyes just kept on watering, and she kept on having to brush them away with the back of her hand.

The stresses of the last week had built up, and built up, and now they were overflowing, literally overflowing, like a dam burst its banks. “I just…I can’t stop…”

“Shush it’s ok, you’re my good girl.” Malcolm wasn’t exactly proficient at comforting anyone, yet at least with Janice he was prepared to try. “Just cry it out darling.”

She didn’t needed his permission and yet somehow having it made it somehow easier. Turning in Malcolm’s arms Janice pressed her face into his chest. She was an ugly crier, her father and Jackie had always told her that, and she didn’t want Malcolm to see her like that.

“You’re my good girl, I’ve got you, it’ll be alright, I’ve got you.” It was all nonsense, babble, the words he meant and yet Malcolm couldn’t understand why they might help. Yet they seemed to, Janice seemed to let go, her shoulders shaking with the sudden force of it.

Hand moving up to stroke her hair, Malcolm held Janice tighter, his free arm wrapped around her slight frame, as if he could almost pull her through and into his chest, could wrap her up in himself and keep her safe from the whole world.

It was nice…once the worst of her tears had been shed, Janice felt lighter, like she could float away and only Malcolm’s vice like grip on her was keeping her grounded. His hand in her hair was particularly soothing. No one had done that since her Mam had passed on.

“Feeling better?”

Nodding Janice felt the bloom of shame in her cheeks. She had blubbered all over Malcolm; his chest was wet under her touch.

“Here.” Malcolm grabbed some of the kitchen roll and offered Janice a sheet.

Head bowed, avoiding his gaze, Janice did what she could to salvage the situation, blew her nose, wiped the tears and mascara stains from her cheeks. Then reaching for another sheet, Janice began to clean up the mess she smeared all over Malcolm.

“Hey I can do that…”

“It’s my mess…”

“It’s our mess.” Malcolm corrected her, hand reaching to tip up Janice’s chin; he needed her to understand what he was trying to say here. “I am responsible for some of those tears.”

“Oh Malcolm.” Janice sighed, she wished he was wrong. She was crying for herself, for her son, for the mess that her life had become, and because her…whatever he was…he had seemingly abandoned her for a week and she had yet to hear any decent reason why.

In dark moments Janice was afraid, afraid that Malcolm really was just like all the rest of them, interested in her until they had got her into bed and then nothing. Yet then there were times like these when he genuinely seemed to care about her. It was confusing, it was unfair, it was cruel, raising her hopes only to dash them.

“Why?” Janice couldn’t bring herself to ask more, if he had to ask what she meant then he really was playing her.

There it was, there was the question he had been dreading. Malcolm’s eyes closed as he tried to think, tried to find the words, yet they wouldn’t come. All his brain could manage was, don’t fuck this up….don’t fuck this up.

“I…I…” Oh god he really couldn’t. Malcolm could feel himself begin to panic. He couldn’t lose her, yet what could he say that wouldn’t result in that. If he told her truth Janice would be disgusted and leave him, yet Malcolm couldn’t think, there were no words, no lies left.

Janice could feel it when Malcolm began to panic. Beneath her palm she could feel his heart pounding, his breath sudden rapid and shallow.

“Are you so scared of me?” Janice surprised herself by asking.

“Of losing you.” Malcolm managed to answer. “Yes…terrified.”

“Is it so terrible?” Janice couldn’t help but prod. Her fear growing when Malcom suddenly avoided her gaze.

“I think you might hate me.” Malcolm confessed, forcing himself to open his eyes and meet Janice’s gaze, watching as her redden eyes widened in surprise. “I couldn’t bear for you to hate me…Janice I lo…”

“Don’t.” It was softly spoken, but there was no mistaking the command. Don’t say it, not now.

Swallowing down the confession Malcolm wasn’t ready to make, yet it had almost slipped out of its own accord, perhaps afraid this would be the only and last opportunity.

Her head was spinning, yet her head had nothing on her heart, which had practically burst from her chest at what Malcolm had almost said, before she stopped him. It came down to a choice, her choice and Janice knew what she wanted.

“Don’t say anything.” Janice added, now it was her turn to surprise Malcolm who went rapidly from terrified to confused.

Leaning up Janice pressed her lips to his lightly. “Do you regret hurting me?”

“Yes…oh yes!” Malcolm insisted, unable to believe what he was hearing, and knowing that he didn’t deserve this, and unable to believe that his luck could be this good.

“Do you promise not to do it again?”

“Yes, oh Janice I swear it.”

“Then you don’t need to tell me why.” Janice added softly, regarding Malcolm’s happy, stunned, disbelief with an ironic smile. “I need you more than I need the truth Malcolm.”

It took too long for that to sink in, but when it did Malcolm couldn’t keep his hands off of Janice, nor his lips. “I promise…” Malcolm insisted in between kisses. “I won’t let you down… I swear it!”

Janice soaked up those kisses, like the desert soaked up the first rainfall. She luxuriated in them. Janice didn’t care if anyone would call her foolish, she had spent so much of her life miserable, that she was going to grab what little happiness she could find with both hands, and not let go.

\---/---


	23. Chapter 23

Day 33: Janice’s flat 7am (90% Lemon 10% plot)

\---/---

Malcolm didn’t want to get up. He was meant to be catching an early train to join the campaign trail, i.e. turning up to bail out the incompetents that were handling the local PR. It was firefighting and he was good at it, but it was such an underwhelming use of his abilities that Malcolm just couldn’t be bothered.

Not today. Not with Janice’s soft little breaths against his neck, or her sinfully smooth body pressed against his side. Sod the lot of them.

Sod Jamie and sod the campaign, sod the naive idiots he had to work with day in day out, his grasping ex-wife who would rather live of his money than support herself. Malcolm would happily toss the lot of them into a volcano right about now.

Turning Malcolm pressed a kiss to the bits of Janice that were visible above the duvet mountain, which she had buried herself under, the curve of her shoulder, the tips of her fingers. Grasping the edge of the duvet, he tried to pry it loose from Janice’s iron grip so he could continue his exploration; he was thwarted when Janice grumbled in her sleep and pulled the damn thing tighter.

Well there was more than one way to approach this.

It was just a tickle at first, and dozing lightly Janice barely squirmed, then it persisted and instinctively Janice swiped at the irritation. Hands flailing blindly, there was a muffled cry and then the hot stuttered breath against her skin, as someone laughed…laughed against back. Now almost awake Janice rolled over, lifting the duvet, and glaring sleepily at the sniggering culprit.

“Wha…t are you doing down there?” Janice asked around a yawn, as Malcolm grinned up at her from inside his duvet cave.

“Saying good morning.” Malcolm replied mischievously, and he was able to watch as Janice slowly came to the realisation of what he meant, it was like watching a slow motion picture suddenly speed up to normal time, as her brain woke up properly.

“oh…Ok…” Janice replied releasing her hold on the duvet, causing Malcolm to laugh once more, before he got back to his far more important task.

Her waist, the dip of her belly button, the line of her rib cage, then up her side, skimming her breast to press his lips to the inside of her elbow.

Janice endured his slow exploration, squirming a little when Malcolm hit a ticklish spot, then outright giggling when Malcolm actually blew a raspberry against her collarbone. Tugging the duvet down so she could thread her fingers through his mad cap curls, Janice couldn’t help but smile at the impish expression on Malcolm’s face, as he settled on top of her.

“Good Morning.” Malcolm finally muttered, pressing a kiss to her lips, not surprised when Janice held him to her and deepened the kiss.

“Hmmmm Good Morning indeed.” Janice replied before sighing, as she glanced at the bedside clock. “What time do you have to…”

“Well that depends.” Malcolm replied, resting his chin between her breasts, and waggling his eyebrows.

“On what?”

“On exactly how cross you will be with me if I pull a sickie?” Malcolm replied honestly.

Biting her lip, Janice tried her best not to smile, to act the conscientious citizen she knew she should be. Yet when Malcolm actually looked uncertain, she couldn’t help but reassure him. “Well I suppose that depends on how you intend to spend your time?”

“Very…” Waggle eyebrows, “…Productively.” Malcolm insisted in a deep voice, which sent a thrilling tingle through Janice. “Very thorough… and extensive work.”

“Well then…”

“I am going to teach you to swear properly.” Malcolm added spontaneously, it was an idea he had been tossing around for a while. He was certain there would be nothing hotter than Janice McCann with a potty mouth, even if she only used it around him….especially if she only used it around him…God Malcolm was getting hard at just the idea of it.

“No I couldn’t.” Janice shook her head, it just wasn’t ladylike.

“I think you could, if you reealllly wanted to.” Malcolm insisted, pressing a kiss between her breasts. “If there was the right incentive and it was just here…just the two of us. A reverse swear jar.” He added, this time trailing his tongue under her breast, as his one hand trailed down her thigh, savouring her shiver.

“Couldn’t we just…you know do it normally?” Janice squirmed, the look in Malcolm’s eyes like he wanted to devour her whole, was very big bad wolf, and it was turning her on.

“Do it? You mean fuck?” Malcolm teased, flicking his tongue up, just once over her nipple. “We won’t be doing anything, until you tell me what you mean Janice…tell me in exquisite detail…Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

God she was torn. Malcolm’s teasing was exquisite but Janice wanted his mouth properly, on her breast, on her…. Janice blushed from just the thought of where she wanted his mouth, if she couldn’t even think it, how on earth was she supposed to say it?

“Come on darling; tell me just what you want me to do to you?” Malcolm insisted, his tongue circling her breast and deliberately avoiding her sensitive nipple.

“Please Malcolm…can’t you just…I can’t…”

“You can, tell me you want me to fuck you Janice and I will, tell me you want me to lick that pretty little cunt of yours and I will, but I have to hear you say it first….use your words like a big girl.”

“Malcolm please...” Janice squirmed, rubbing herself against him like a cat, she could feel just how excited Malcolm was, and yet somehow he was maintaining far better control of himself than Janice was.

“Fuck or cunt, just say one for me Janice or I will get up, go to work, and leave you like this.”

He couldn’t…he wouldn’t…surely he wouldn’t. Biting her lip Janice cried in frustration as Malcolm’s fingers traced over her inner thighs almost touching and then not, his mouth hot and wonderful on her breast but not where she wanted. It was frustrating and yet the most erotic foreplay she had every experienced.

The lightest brush of his fingertip against her clit had Janice bucking, her tongue taking on a life of its own, bypassing her brain. “Cunt.”

Startled Malcolm actually stopped dead. She had said it she had actually said it. Yet it seemed he wasn’t the only one surprised. Janice’s eyes had flown open and she stared down at him in shock, her cheeks stained a deep rosy hue.

“Sorry I didn’t quite catch that…”

Biting her lip Janice met Malcolm’s gaze, her internal skirmish matched her external reaction. 

Realising Janice needed a little more encouragement Malcolm lightly traced his fingers over her wet lips, his thumb pressing against her clit once more.

“Malcolm….” Janice’s eyes closed for a moment as she tried to swallow down her shame, before girding her courage and forcing her eyes open.

Holding Malcolm’s gaze Janice pushed through her embarrassment, it was just a word, a word that seemingly got Malcolm very excited when she said it. Janice was safe here, in Malcolm’s arms, she could let go of that perfect lady mask she had been forced to wear, because he wouldn’t think less of her.

“I want your mouth on my cunt.” It came out like an order, an order Malcolm was very happy to obey, but only after he had rewarded Janice’s potty mouth with a deep kiss. Lips soft and needy, he pressed kisses to every corner of her mouth, then her jaw and then down and down.

Janice’s bucked when Malcolm’s tongue finally flicked against her clit, swirling and flicking and then sucking. He wasn’t making her wait for it any longer, going down on her with determination and ferocity that caused Janice to cry out. Malcolm managed to wring noises out of her that Janice wouldn’t have believed was possible, her body was burning, limbs shaking beyond her control; her orgasm was like an express freight train, it buffeted through her…unstoppable…

“Janice?” Malcolm stroked the inside of Janice’s thigh, watching as his lover continued to tremble, her blue eyes wide open and yet unseeing. For a moment Malcolm was worried, he had caused her to have a stroke or something. Then her eyes blinked, refocused as they settled on his face. “Welcome back.”

“Thank…you.” It was breathy; Janice was still struggling to bring herself back under control. She had never had an orgasm like that before.

Smirking with pride, Malcolm couldn’t help but preen at her reaction. Malcolm Tucker Sex God had a ring to it. It was certainly better, than any of the other monikers that he had picked up over the years.

“Do you need a minute?” Malcolm questioned her gently, Janice was still trembling slightly under his hands and Malcolm didn’t want to break her.

“Some water would be good.” Janice replied, her throat was a little dry and scratchy from all the noise she had been making, a fact that caused Janice to lower her gaze, unable to meet that knowing look in Malcolm’s eyes.

“Sure water.” Malcolm rolled off her, padding naked out to the kitchen where he poured Janice a glass of water, taking a deep sip for himself, he may be a love god but he still preferred not to taste pussy all evening. Topping up the glass Malcolm headed back into the bedroom.

Janice had tugged the duvet back up over her naked form, whether because she was embarrassed or cold and Malcolm frowned a little at having his view impeded. Still he couldn’t remain cross, when Janice pulled back the cover to let him slip in.

“Here, fresh as a mountain stream.” Malcolm teased as he held the glass against her lips.

The cold water felt so good against her throat, and Janice snuggled against Malcolm, as he took care of her. It felt so good, not just in her body but in her soul. Janice felt loved, cherished and safe. She couldn’t recall the last time she had felt like that, and it brought tears to her eyes.

“Hey…what’s this?” Malcolm caught the tears with the tips of his fingers, Janice was crying again, only this time she was smiling as well.

“It’s just…I love you.”

For a moment Malcolm felt like his heart had exploded, like it had swollen in his chest, and then burst. She loved him. Malcolm couldn’t remember the last time anyone had loved him. He wasn’t a loveable person; even his own mother didn’t like him. For once he was speechless, the words just wouldn’t come. Malcolm knew what he should say now, and it was true, he knew it was true, and yet the words were stuck in his throat.

“Shush…its ok…” Janice added reaching up to lay her fingers over Malcolm’s open mouth. “You don’t have to say it, not if you’re not ready. I just needed to tell you, I needed you to know, you’ve made me so happy Malcolm.”

“Thank you.” Now it was his turn for his voice to fail. “I do…I just…I need your love…I need you to love me.” Malcolm managed, inelegantly, to try and covey how much her words had meant to him.

“I do…I love you Malcolm Tucker.” Janice repeated, the confession so freeing, she felt like she could float right up to the ceiling.

She could wait for him to say it back, it was written all over his face, and Janice knew that Malcolm loved her; it was in every tender gesture, in the way now his eyes barely left hers. There was none of that awkward avoidance she had gotten from Jackie, Malcolm soaked up her love and affection, like a man starved of it, and Janice was happy to oblige.

“I…I need to be kissing you right now.” Malcolm replied, setting the water down on the side table, and stroking his fingers down over Janice’s cheek.

“Oh well if you…” Janice began only for Malcolm to swallow her words, slow and sweet, her fingers his hair and his hands stroking her jaw.

Their bodies moved in synchronous repose, her thighs up to cradle his waist, Malcolm shifting his weight on to his elbow as Janice manoeuvred him. Sliding inside her was like coming home after a long journey, this was where he was meant to be. All his life had been moving towards this moment. He was loved, warts and all. He belonged somewhere, to someone. He had spent years fucking women, yet this was the first time Malcolm would admit to making love. He was turning into a gooey puddle of emotion, Janice was wearing down all his rough edges and Malcolm honestly didn’t care, in fact he was glad of it. This silly little bit of a woman had him wrapped around her little finger and Malcolm would gladly ask for more.

It was slow and sweet; no one had ever been this gentle with her. So full, so perfect, Janice just wished she could draw Malcolm in closer, to fuse them into one being. 

“I love you…I love you…” It was her mantra as Malcolm began to thrust erratically, they were both so close, so close to that blissful edge of oblivion.

Janice stared up into Malcolm’s blown pupils; her hand reaching up to press against his cheek, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. His forehead was pressed against her own; their eyes so close Janice’s could have sworn she felt the brush of his eyelashes when he blinked. Janice saw the moment Malcolm lost control, let the pleasure take himself over, and she would have sworn it was the sight of his pleasure more than any physical stimulus that sent her crashing after him.

“Fuck….oh fuck…oh fuck…” Malcolm gasped into Janice’s mouth, their kisses sloppy and desperate.

Smiling against his lips Janice tightened the grip her shaking legs had on Malcolm’s waist, squeezing him outside and in and savouring the way she could make this man fall apart. No matter what happened now, she would always have this moment. Of being complete for the first time.

Once upon a time life had broken them both into tiny pieces, and now their love had re-forged into something new and shining.

\---/---


	24. Chapter 24

Day 33: 5pm Janice’s flat  
\---/---

Malcolm had eventually called in sick, a migraine; something difficult to dispute and with all the “rest” and “relaxation” Malcolm was planning on getting should be recovered from by the next day.

In fact that was precisely what he was doing, stretched out on the couch watching as Janice potted about in his white shirt. Humming as she was cooking Malcolm barely feigned interest in the television that was on low, it was far more interesting watching her, and if it wasn’t for the fact he could burn water Malcolm might have offered to help.

Get yourself a woman that can cook.

It was one of the few pieces of advice Malcolm could remember his father passing on before his early death. As a young man Malcolm had dismissed it, surely a pretty face, banging body and sharp mind were more important. Yet Malcolm had already married one woman who hit all of his criteria and look where that had ended up?

Perhaps it was old fashioned, perhaps the cooking part wasn’t the point, perhaps what his father had meant was, find a woman who wanted to look after you. It sounded old fashioned, but perhaps it was all about balance. Malcolm knew he was a workaholic, it left little time for the rest of life’s chores, his ex-wife had grown to resent that, and honestly he couldn’t blame her. And perhaps that was the message he should have delivered, rather than pointing out that as paid all the damn bills, was it too much to expect her to look after the house?

“You’re scowling Malcolm.” Janice teased him, and Malcolm broke out of his daze to meet her gaze.

“Sorry I was just….”

“Miles away.” Janice finished for him. “Well stay here, you didn’t look like you were happy wherever you were.”

“No.” Malcolm admitted. “No I wasn’t.” Then swinging his feet off the sofa Malcolm padded barefoot into the kitchen.

Slipping his arms around Janice’s middle he rested his chin on her shoulder and watched her as she stirred and added spices into the sauce she was making.

“Thank you.” He added suddenly, pressing a kiss to the exposed slope of her neck. “Thank you for coming back. Thank you for cooking for me.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Janice replied, tilting her head to try and meet his eye. “You know I do enjoy cooking, it’s not like it’s a chore.”

“Even so thank you, I don’t ever want you to feel that I don’t value or appreciate the things you do for me.”

“It’s for us.” Janice corrected him before a beaming smile spread across her face. “And you’re welcome nonetheless.”

“Is there anything I can do….not with the food…I wouldn’t want to….”

“You can set the table if you like just a fork and spoon for the pasta, water glasses and if you could open the wine to air?”

Pleased to have something relatively simple to contribute, Malcolm pressed another kiss to her neck, before moving to do as she asked.

Cutlery, glasses, wine, it was simple and took him barely a few minutes to complete. Then Malcolm could go back to his favourite activity, watching Janice.

“Malcolm you’re staring.”

“I like the view.” Malcolm retorted sniggering as Janice mocked glared at him. “What it’s rather fabulous, it could only be better if you started cooking naked.”

“And risk the splash back? Sorry my Darling not even for you.”

“What about an apron, then at least I can enjoy half the view.” Malcolm wheedled.

“Perhaps on your birthday.” Janice teased before returning to her task.

Leaning back against his chair Malcolm felt a familiar warmth bubbling up inside him. It was happening more and more when he was around Janice, and Malcolm knew he was one slip of the tongue away from confessing his feelings. It wasn’t such a scary prospect now, Janice had already been the brave one, she had told him she loved him without any expectation of him saying it back.

Yet unlike Malcolm Janice had already rid herself of her baggage, it was perhaps an unflattering moniker for Jackie McCann snr, yet that didn’t make it less true. By contrast Malcolm’s baggage was like an albatross around his neck; his financial difficulties were more an embarrassment, a dent to his pride. It was an old fashioned view, and Malcolm honestly didn’t care than Janice had money, what he cared about was that he didn’t. He had assets that could be liquidated, yet that would take time and will, and Malcolm wasn’t ready to take that step….not just yet.

Still was it wrong to want to be able to spoil her, with his own money?

And he did want to.

For all his wealth Jackie McCann had no real idea how to use it properly, oh they had the big house, the flash cars and clothes, yet other than that the life they lived was bland and ordinary. Husband went to work, wife stayed at home and raised their child, rinse and repeat. Jackie might have been able to travel with his team but he had never taken his family with him.

Janice had barely been anywhere and Malcolm wanted to show her to world. He could give that to her….well he could once he got this mess with Jamie behind him. Once he had secured that directorship.

“We should plan to go away.” Malcolm spoke up as Janice set the plates down on the table.

“What’s that now?” Janice asked in surprise, taking her seat.

“We should plan a holiday, just the two of us, for after the campaign finishes. God knows I’ll need a break by then.” Malcolm added, his happy mood souring slightly when Janice avoided his gaze and began to push the food around on her plate.

“Sure.” Janice replied, yet it was decidedly non-committal and Malcolm scowled.

“Don’t you want to be seen with me, is that it?” Malcolm couldn’t help but ask. His earlier certainty subsiding. “You said…”

“Malcolm I know what I said, and I stand by it, I do love you.” Janice insisted, setting down her fork. “I just don’t think I should be planning a holiday with my lover…not just yet.”

“What’s the harm in planning a trip?” Malcolm couldn’t leave it alone. “I am not suggesting we jet off tomorrow, I am talking months away.”

“And I said ok…I just…Can we not start making any big plans…Neither of us know what will happen tomorrow and…”

“Do you think you will fall out of love with me that easily?” Malcolm prodded the sore point, that was his greatest fear, that having finally realised his own feelings and committed himself, that Janice would realise what a mistake she was making.

“Now you are just picking a fight.” Janice huffed, her appetite long gone. Why did Malcolm have to do this, they were having a wonderful evening and he had go and ruin things? Was it always going to be like this? Didn’t he realise it wasn’t her feelings she was worried about.

“Don’t you want a future with me Janice?” Malcolm could feel his heart breaking in his chest. Surely this wasn’t just a fling for her? He knew that Janice had had affairs in the past, yet Malcolm had assumed that was simply because she miserable in her marriage but felt unable to leave it. The idea that she might relish the temporary rush of an affair had never occurred to him.

“Malcolm stop…just stop…”

“No…I won’t just stop….Here I am imagining a future together and you’re already giving it a best before date.”

“It’s not my commitment I am questioning alright!” Janice snapped, regretting her outburst when Malcolm’s face went ashen. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but Janice had been let down so many times before. “Look I’m sorry…Can’t we take this one day at a time?”

Him…it was him….Janice was doubting his commitment to her. No wonder she didn’t want to make future plans, it would only break her heart if they fell through. It was perfectly rational, and given his track record perfectly reasonable, and yet Malcolm couldn’t help but feel affronted. Janice may love him, but she didn’t trust him, and that hurt.

Swallowing down a retort that was far crueller than he meant Malcolm did his best to control himself. If he wanted Janice’s trust then he was going to have to earn it the hard way, and picking a fight right now would not help this.

“Ok.” It was a weak, tepid commitment at best, yet it was the best Malcolm could manage right now. “One day at a time then.” He added trying his best not to sound sullen or disappointed. So what if he wanted to run before they could walk, that was just the way he was, full throttle Tucker, all or nothing.

“Thank you.” Janice replied softly, she could see his clear disappointment, and it hurt her to hurt him, but she needed time…they needed time together. “Now eat your supper before it gets cold.”

Janice was trying, the light playful mood from earlier was gone but that didn’t mean the evening had to be ruined.

“I’m sorry I snapped.” Malcolm conceded, and it was worth the small sacrifice of pride when Janice all but beamed at him.

“And I’m sorry I’m so cautious…It will just take some time…can you wait for me?” Janice asked hopefully, stretching her hand across the small dining table, palm upturned.

Reaching out Malcolm covered her little hand with his own, gripping it tightly before stroking his fingers over her palm. “As it’s you…I suppose I could…” Malcolm began teasingly, stopping suddenly as Janice leant across the table and captured his lips a brief yet firm kiss.

His hand reached up to grasp her head, long fingers wrapping around the back of it as Malcolm pulled Janice back to him, this time the kiss was longer and deeper, and Malcolm savoured the little whimper he managed to evoke before he let her go. Savouring the deep blush on her cheeks Malcolm’s gaze only dropped when Janice’s did, and then he couldn’t help but laugh, at the sizeable sauce stain, that now graced the middle of his shirt, that Janice was wearing.

“Sorry….Only I’m not sorry.” Malcolm replied, his impish grin only growing, as Janice rolled her eyes and then began to unbutton the shirt.

Slipping it off her shoulders, Janice savoured Malcolm’s wide eyed stare, and the delighted expression that spread across his face, as she retook her seat, this time completely naked.

“Well it looks like my birthday has come early.” Malcolm teased, lifting up his glass of wine and offering it in a toast.

“Happy birthday Darling.” Janice echoed before taking a sip from her wine.

It had been their first proper fight, and from the look on Malcolm’s face as he visually devoured her and actually devoured the food in front of him, Janice was certain the making up was going to be quite the experience.

\---/---


	25. Chapter 25

\---/---  
Day 35: Malcolm’s Office 2.00pm  
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Malcolm knew this was the honeymoon period. That it couldn’t stay this good forever, but damn it was really good.

It was so good that Malcolm couldn’t keep from smiling. Already he had half the staff in his office convinced, he must have been put on some medication. Who knew being happy, could be confused with being drugged up to his eyeballs?

Thoughts of Janice were also something of a panacea for when a certain stupid politician opened his mouth. Whereas normally Malcolm kept a forced smile on his face, through thoughts of gutting a particularly rotten fish, mixing it with a delightful side order of dog shit, and then force feeding him it, whilst a particularly ugly spandex wearing old dominatrix, spanked the dull bastard with a spiked paddle. Now Malcolm just let his mind drift back to the activities from the night before, and suddenly his smile was no longer forced, and the time positively flew.

To be honest his happy spaced out expression was probably only contributing to those drugged up rumours.

Now he couldn’t wait to get home; probably because for once there was something at home worth going home to. Malcolm couldn’t recall when he had last left the office on time so many days in a row. Not that he was going to be able to tonight.

Malcolm’s happy expression soured momentarily when he stared down at the guest list for tonight’s event.

He was on babysitting duty again. It was a private fundraising dinner for the campaign. He hadn’t even been down to attend, as it was in a fancy stately home turned hotel, with all food and drink included, the other PR staffers had been eagerly scoffing down that gravy train. Yet it seemed several of them had overindulged on the free buffet at the last hospital visit, and irony of ironies had gone down with food poisoning. So instead Malcolm was going to have to dig out his tux.

These dos were always so bloody boring, at least until the drinking got started, and then it was more a matter of containing the fallout. Of course this time Malcolm had a different vested interest, less getting people out of trouble and more into it. This might finally provide the dirt he needed, and the prospect of finally getting out from under Jamie’s threats…well that just made it a little more bearable. What would shift it into fun would be if he could convince a certain brunette to accompany him.

But Janice would never agree…it would be to public…too soon after her husband’s funeral to have their names linked together, it would be the death knell for what remained of her career.

At the moment Janice was only avoiding being asked for her resignation, by her local party, through a very local cadre of farmers. They had chosen her for her commitment to their agenda, not because she was married to a Scottish footballing hero. And Janice had returned that loyalty by campaigning for greater reform, working with their MEP to secure some very lucrative European Grants. Yet even their support wouldn’t be enough if any more scandal was associated with her name.

Malcolm understood this, and he accepted it, and he resented it…a little…ok more than a little.

He couldn’t help but want to make plans.

Malcolm had spent so much of his life making the “political sensible” decisions, scandal was to be avoided, when it happened it was to be buried, or bribed, or blackmailed away. Normally these were other people’s messes, and Malcolm had been able to stand back, and relish tearing strips off of them for their fucking stupidity. Some days he really missed his morning rounds, bouncing from one Whitehall department to the other, giving them all a right good Tuckering for whatever fuck up they had managed that day.

So whilst Malcolm was trying to be a good boyfriend and support what was left of Janice’s career, part of him just wanted the party to get on with it, to ask for her resignation. They’d be free then, properly free from all this mess. Malcolm was sure it wouldn’t take much after losing her seat to persuade Janice to move to London. He knew it was selfish, to want her all to himself, to ask her to move away from her home, and her son, to be with him. Yet surely she had given enough of her life to people who didn’t appreciate her?

As much as Malcolm genuinely thought, a fresh start would be the best thing for her, he wasn’t so far gone, as not to realise that it really wasn’t his wishes that mattered here.

He could only offer, it was Janice’s choice, and other than being the best boyfriend he could, Malcolm was determined not to unduly interfere. He could, Malcolm knew he could, a little manipulation here, the right words spoken in the right ear, and he could make it happen. Yet it seemed Malcolm had finally found a line he wouldn’t cross. He couldn’t knowingly hurt Janice again. He was guilty of far too much already, and Malcolm knew he was going to do whatever he could to make up for that.

Yet despite knowing all this, Malcolm couldn’t help but feel impatient to begin.

He wanted that damn job, he had earned it. He shouldn’t have to keep shovelling shit.

He wanted to move back to the city that he had made his home in, not stay stuck in this frozen, wet exile.

He wanted to walk into any restaurant, or party, with Janice on his arm, and not care who saw them, or what they thought…hell he wanted people to stare, because damn he knew he was punching above his weight, and Malcolm would pay good money, to see Ollie Fucking Reeder’s face then, smug little Oxbridge twat.

He wanted to share that life with Janice, he wanted to spoil her, and he wanted to show her what life was meant to be like. He wanted to take her to bed with him every night, wake up beside her in the morning, in his house, in his bed, and not feel like some freeloading interloper.

Just the idea of having to spend one night away from her pissed Malcolm right off. Great sex was not something he was used to, regular great sex with a woman who loved him, hell that was gold dust. So perhaps it was little Malcolm who was influencing his decisions, but Malcolm resolved to find a way to get Janice to come with him tonight. It was a private function, it would be fine.

It would just be a white lie, and if she didn’t want to join the fundraising dinner, well then Malcolm wouldn’t force her; she could take room service in their room.

Picking up the office phone before his proper brain could talk him out of it, Malcolm punched in the number that Janice had made him memorise.

“Hello…”

“Hello Sweetheart.” Malcolm leant back in his chair, his voice practically oozing suggestion. He was confident that he could ally any concerns, what Malcolm Tucker wanted he usually got. “I’ve got a surprise for you; could you pack us a weekend bag? My tux is in your wardrobe…and I wouldn’t object to you bringing a certain dress…”

\---/---


	26. Chapter 26

\---/---  
Day 35: 6pm Highclare Castle carpark (Ok citrus warning heavy, youse been warned ya scallies)  
\---/---

It was already dark by the time they arrived. Malcolm considered it something of a blessing that there wasn’t anyone he recognised, when Janice’s 4x4 turned into the hotel car park. He knew that she would work it out eventually, it wasn’t like they could avoid everyone all night, and yet Malcolm did hope to put it off as long as possible. Preferably until they were walking into the formal dining room…

Shooting Janice a smile as she struggled to park the giant car, Malcolm savoured the look of acute concentration on her face. Janice watching was quickly becoming one of his favourite occupations, whether it was watching her serene expression as she cooked, the total abandon when she came, or the deep furrow that appeared between her brows, as she navigated getting them out of Edinburgh in rush hour traffic, when a normal person would have just resorted to swearing.

“Done in 5…well it could be worse.” Janice commentated on her own performance causing Malcolm to laugh. “Laugh it up Mr Smarty Pants I’d like to see you do it better.”

Holding up his hands in surrender Malcolm shook his head. “Oh no I’m a proper London dweller Janice; the only cars I usually get in are driven by paid professionals.”

“Well then you can swipe that smug look of your face…”

“I believe my expression is closer to one of adoring indulgence.” Malcolm countered.

“That’s not what it looks like…”

“Well perhaps not but it is my face, so I should have a better understanding of what it is meant to show.” Malcolm insisted, trying his best not to show just how amused he was by Janice’s little fit of pique.

“Do you have a smart answer for everything?” Janice asked, leaning back in the driver’s seat, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“Yes…Infuriating isn’t it!” Malcolm declared, relishing the look of surprise on Janice’s face, then before she could find her own answer Malcolm leant across the gear stick and planted a kiss on Janice’s lips.

It was meant to be a brief peck, an attempt to offset a potential argument over nothing, yet Malcolm spotted a familiar political figure emerging from a car directly across from them and he all but crushed Janice back against her door.

Squeaking in surprise as Malcolm kiss demanded her sudden and complete attention. Janice literally melted as her boyfriend ended their little spat in the best way possible. Fingers found their way up into his silver curls and Janice tugged on them, her moan swallowed by Malcolm as his tongue did sinful things, flicking just the way it did when…well when Malcolm tasted other parts of her.

Despite Malcolm’s unique form of behavioural therapy Janice still wasn’t comfortable using those words, well outside of the bedroom at least…and even then sparingly…the effect on Malcolm when she did swear was a little too…well there were times it wasn’t good for him to get too excited.

Drawing his mouth away with a smacking sound Malcolm risked a glance up, the coast was clear, if he gave a few minutes then they should be all checked in an besides he needed a few minutes to regain his own equilibrium.

“Sorry…I’ll be alright in a minute.” Malcolm insisted, a hint of a blush gracing his cheeks, as he shifted back into his seat and adjusted his trousers, to try and hide the effect kissing Janice seemed to evoke.

Biting her lip Janice felt the need to fan herself a little. Not just kissing Malcolm in a car park where to be honest anyone might see but knowing she was the cause of his excitement…well it made her feel powerful and a little wanton. Her heart lurched a little when she watched Malcolm shift uncomfortably, and a wicked wicked thought, that would have her saying who know how many Hail Mary’s later.

“Need a hand there Darling.” Janice teased, trailing her hand suggestively over the gear stick, curling her hand round and tugging on the soft leather, leaving Malcolm to strangle a cry of something between pleasure and torture.

Her fingertips tip toed across the central console and over onto Malcolm’s knee.

“Janice you are not helping…” Malcolm squirmed in his seat. Rather than helping his little problem go away, time was only making the situation grow out of hand. Malcolm couldn’t help but watched the scarlet tipped fingers tip toe across his beige slacks, trailing little circles of hellfire over his skin as his trousers got slowly tighter and tighter.

“Fuck.” Malcolm leant back against the leather seat, balling up his fists and pressing them against his face as he barely resisted the urge to grind against the soft little hand that was now warmly stroking his thigh.

This was a baaaaad idea….the king of bad ideas. Yet Malcolm couldn’t bring himself to push her hand off of him. Anyone could turn up and park next to them, even the dark wouldn’t protect them from that. He joined the campaign to dig up the dirty secrets and scandals not to provide them himself. Yet Jesus did the idea of fucking Janice’s hand, of spurting his cum all over her pristine leather interior, where horrified MSP’s might catch them at any moment…shit it was such a turn on…and Malcolm had never even been tempted to fuck in his own office at Number 10…it had to be this woman…

Christ now Malcolm had the vision of Janice and his old desk stuck in his head…oh fuck…whilst a cabinet meeting was going on down the fucking hall…or perhaps whilst Ollie…fucking…dick…shit…balls…Reeder was waiting outside to have Malcolm rip off his testicles and sew them onto his face in place of those piggy little eyes of his.

He’d make her fucking scream alright….even fucking louder than that piggy Oxbridge twat would when Malcolm would arse fuck him with the award winning prickliest of fucking prickly cactus’s.

Rocking his hips a little, Malcolm could feel the rough rasp of his fly against his sensitive cock; it had seemed like such a good idea to forgo underwear when getting changed only an hour or so ago. Now it rasped and scraped and Malcolm couldn’t stop himself rocking against it, it brought tears to his eyes but it was too good to stop.

“Poor baby.” Janice cooed dragging her fingers nails over the bulge in Malcolm’s trousers, savouring his squirming sweary reaction… If he reacted like this when she was barely touching goodness knows what he was going to do when Janice…

“Fuck…fuck…fuckity…Janice I swear to every fucking god that might exist, if you don’t wank me off this fucking second I am going to take you upstairs and spank your arse red raw with the bedside bible! I will tie you to the fucking bed post and bring you to the point of fucking cuming again and again and never let you. You’ll be begging and soaking the god damn sheets, your fucking arse will be so sore you won’t be able to sit down for days, and I will just fucking sit there and watch like the fucking smug bastard I am.”

Well that was a vision she wasn’t getting out of her head any time soon, and Janice felt her skin burn that the idea wasn’t exactly a turn off…perhaps…well it was something to talk about later…

Deciding she had tormented Malcolm long enough, Janice tugged on his zipper, pulling it down slowly as Malcolm whimpered and tried to make himself comfortable.

When his cock finally bobbed free Malcolm couldn’t help the cry of relief…the cool air felt so good on his hot sweaty skin. Yet if he thought Janice was going to put him out of his misery right away he was disappointed.

“Malcolm.” Janice spoke his name firmly, yet when he didn’t react, she tutted and flicked her finger against tip of his swollen cock…that got his attention.

“Fuck woman…”

“Look at me!” Janice insisted and finally Malcolm pulled his fists away from his face, vision clearing to see her growing smile.

“Good, now keep watching me.” Janice insisted, then feigning confidence and with her gaze locked on Malcolm she shifted in her seat, and began to lean over the central console.

No….noooooooo way…Malcolm Tucker had a sudden flash of religious fervour. His luck was not this good… Oh please Jesus don’t be teasing…

He watched, hell there was no way he was tearing his gaze away from this, there could have been a parade of pink elephants wearing tutu’s and banging drums trooping past the car at this very moment. Yet there was no way Malcolm’s gaze would have shifted one millimetre from Janice’s as she lowered her head and opened that sinfully sweet mouth of hers.

Fuck yes…God loves him…there was no other possibility…as Janice’s lips closed around the swollen tip of his cock and she actually fucking licked the precum from it.

One fist made its way into Malcolm mouth, bitten down on, the other clenched the car door so that Malcolm wouldn’t give into the desire to clasp Janice by the hair and force her head down. Just let her do what she wanted…rush it and she might change her mind, and the last thing Malcolm wanted was Janice changing her mind.

A moment later and his patience was rewarded, as Malcolm was sucked into Janice’s mouth, her tongue running down the length of him, as she tried to take as much of him in as possible. Her free hand massaged his sack and when Janice swallowed around him Malcolm knew he wasn’t going to last long.

Bobbing up and down along his cock…Janice’s dark head and her red lips sliding up and down his cock. Lick…suck…caress…swallow….and then she started to fucking hum….

“Janice…sweetheart…I’m going to….” Malcolm grunted out from around his fist. Doing his best to stifle his cry as Janice took as much of him as she could manage and the tip of his cock brushed the back of her throat before…fuck…

Swallowing as Malcolm climaxed Janice her best not to spill, her cheeks bulging a little with the effort, as she tried to hold on until he had finished. It was impossible not to be a little messy and Janice grappled for the glove compartment and the box of tissues she always kept there.

Sitting up and back into her own seat Janice swallowed down Malcolm’s salty essence….giggling a little to herself at the naughty thought there was no need for dinner now. Tissues in hand she then did her best to wipe any residue from her mouth, before attending to little Malcolm who looked more than a little dejected poking out from out of Malcolm’s barely unfastened trousers.

“I fucking adore you Janice McCann.” Malcolm slurred the endearments of the post shagged haze. “When we get up to the room I’ll return the favour…I promise.”

“I didn’t do it expecting anything in return Malcolm.” Janice insisted as she tucked little Malcolm safely back in and zipped him back up. “I did it because I wanted to.”

“Aye and I want to suck on that clit of yours until you squeeze my head with those iron thighs of yours.” Malcolm maintained. “And then no knickers for you little Missy…I want to slip my fingers into you during dinner…”

“Malcolm!”

“You cannie be shocked….this from the woman who just sucked me off in a fucking car park?”

Blushing so hard you would have thought she was the one who had just gotten some, Janice fumbled with the door, she could already feel herself getting wet… suddenly the idea of not wearing any knickers seemed like a wonderful idea.

\---/---


	27. Chapter 27

Day 35: 7..no 7ish pm Highclare Castle  
\---/---

Checking in had gone without a hitch…although when the clerk had naturally called them Mr & Mrs Tucker and bid them enjoy their stay; Malcolm had thought Janice might have burst a blood vessel. Still he had gotten them out of there and up to their room, whilst talking a concerned Janice out of confessing the truth to the poor receptionist. Nobody cared whether you were married or not these days, and Malcolm didn’t need to draw any more attention to them.

It was a nice enough room. Malcolm knew without a doubt there were nicer ones, still it wasn’t like he was paying for it, and when he scored that directorship and a six figure salary he would be able to afford the suites. Still the bed was comfy enough.

Shooting a smug glance across the bijou room where Janice was trying and failing to do something with her mussed hair, Malcolm had to resist the urge to pull her back down onto it, and check whether she was abiding by the no underwear promise. Although perhaps he should leave that inspection for during those droning after dinner speeches…the ones that usually had him wanting to claw his own ears off, whilst being forced to hold a rigor mortis expression of polite interest.

The red dress looked amazing.

Malcolm knew Janice had many other outfits, some that probably looked just as amazing on her, but this was “his” dress. When she wore it, it was because they both knew that he liked it, that Janice wore it because he liked it so much and in some way she was showing the world that she was his when she wore it…even if the only people who realised that were the two of them…well they knew it and that was all that mattered.

“I fucking adore your arse in that dress.” Malcolm couldn’t help but admire the view as Janice bent over to add the finishing touches to her make up in the tiny dressing table mirror.

“Yes dear.” Janice mumbled as she touched up her mascara, jumping slightly and smudging it a little, as Malcolm’s visual appreciation of her backside turned physically, his hands wandering. “Malcolm you were the one who insisted on us getting ready to go downstairs for dinner…”

“I know I know.” Malcolm raised his hands in surrender, unable to resist giving that pert backside one last pat before placing the bed between them once more. Fucking bloody dinners.

“Have you ever…” He paused, tugging nervously on his ear as Janice met his gaze in the mirror.

It wasn’t like Malcolm to ever be backward about coming forward, and god knows the man had the vocabulary of a sailor, so to see him almost flustered.

“Have I ever what?” Janice asked naively.

“You know…”

“No I don’t know Malcolm.”

“Then it’s a no you haven’t.” Malcolm answered his own question as he reached for his dinner jacket and pulled it on.

“Malcolm?”

“It’s nothing…shall we go down?”

Frowning slightly Janice reached for her clutch bag, accepting the hand Malcolm offered, but using it to stop him. Reaching up she adjusted his bowtie, just a little twist and perfect.

“Thank you.” Malcolm gazed down at Janice softly, she was such a sweetheart and he really had done nothing to deserve her, like tonight he was about to lead her into dinner, and into a situation she had no idea about, all because he didn’t want to hide their relationship anymore.

For the first time Malcolm actually took a moment to think…to really think about what he was doing. It was quiet as epiphany’s went, staring down into Janice’s trusting face, Malcolm knew that he loved her, that he was in love with her and for the first time it hit him what love really meant.

He was a prize cunt.

“Well come on…” Janice pushed him to move but suddenly Malcolm seemed reluctant. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t deserve you.” Malcolm sighed, tracing his hand over her cheek. “One day you are going to realise that and I just can’t…”

“Malcolm we’ve been over this before, it’s in the past, I have forgiven you for whatever you did, we don’t need to dwell on it.”

“It’s not all in the past…It’s happening now.” Malcolm confessed guiltily. “I brought you here on false pretences…It’s a fundraiser dinner…I just wanted you here with me, on my arm, and I didn’t think…no that’s a lie, I did think, I just put what I wanted first and I’m sorry…I’m such a fucking shithole of a boyfriend.”

Of all the things Malcolm could have said, that he was really married, or he was gay, boy Janice had already lived through both of those. Well she hadn’t expected this and she wouldn’t lie it did hurt. He knew she wanted to take it slow, and outing their relationship to their peers and god knows how many other acquaintances, well that was the opposite of slow. It would also tank what was left of her career and Malcolm was too politically savvy not to know that.

“Why would you do this?”

“Because I am a greedy, selfish, old bastard.” Malcolm replied. “I want you all to myself and I also want to show you off to the whole world. It’s fucking pride and ego and everything bad in my character Janice. If I could get away with it, I’d probably fuck you over the dinner table, just so everyone had no doubt we were fucking.”

Ignoring Malcolm’s crudeness, because well she was still trying to make sense of what he was saying. “But why…I don’t…You’re Malcolm Tucker and I’m just no…”

“You are the most drop dead gorgeous piece of arse, I have ever and could ever aspire to bang, in my wildest wet wank offs. You’re the class of girl that I would watch hang out with their handsome, rich boyfriend, who looked at me like I was some sort of demented pervert, who was going to jump out of the corner and flash them. Every time you let me touch you I can barely keep it together, what if it’s the last time I ever get to fuck you, Jesus you cannot believe what the fuck goes through my head. I guess I am just an stupid insecure little prick, who thought if he could out our relationship, then that would mean I could hold on to you a little longer…but then all I’ve gone and done it fucked it up all the sooner…”

“Oh…” Janice wasn’t sure what else to say, and she sank down on the bed. It was not as bad, and then also far worse than she expected.

She was angry with him, Janice had more than enough of the men in her life making the decisions for her, and she felt like an idiot for thinking Malcolm was any different to the rest, and yet he had told her the truth before it was too late. She was conflicted. She still wanted to punch him and yet part of her wanted to comfort him as well. Janice honestly thought she was the only one with such deep seated feelings of inadequacy.

When she looked at Malcolm she saw someone that at first glance was no pin up, but when you looked twice….oh my he was gorgeous…maybe not classically handsome but still there was something, and surely she couldn’t have been the only woman to think so? So either Malcolm was lying to her again or he genuinely felt she was out of his league.

“Janice please…please tell me I haven’t irreversible fucked this up?”

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Janice turned to meet Malcolm’s pleading gaze.

“If you’d have let me walk into that dining room and not told me what was really going on until it was too late…” Janice trailed off, unable to hide the anger in her voice. “I would never have forgiven you...”

“But can you?” Malcolm sank to his knees in front of her; his hands clasped together in the closest Malcolm Tucker would come to prayer.

“I love you.” Janice confessed, feeling the anger leaving her body as the air left her lungs. “You made a mistake, but you admit it, and you stopped when you realised you would hurt me…It’s just you already made me a promise not to hurt me again Malcolm and you’ve broken that only a few days later… I don’t know what I am supposed to think.”

“I know. And if you had any sense you probably wouldn’t forgive me again, but I am learning…I may be a wee bit slow.” Malcolm added. “You know I was married once before, well I fucked that relationship because I just didn’t see why I needed to change, I was a cocky little cunt spouting off shit like, she knew what was I was like when she married me. Well it has taken god knows how many fucking years Janice but I don’t want to be that Malcolm Tucker any more…the man’s a fucking cock.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself Malcolm…besides I am rather fond of your fucking cock.” Janice managed to choke out, savouring the looked of disbelief on Malcolm’s face.

Reaching up she placed her hand on Malcolm’s face, running her fingers over it gently. “One day at a time remember…I knew what I was talking about…just baby steps ok and we’ll be fine…Now don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

“Is that a hint to make myself scarce?” Malcolm asked.

“Maybe a small one. I may be choosing to forgive, but part of me still wants to punch you.”

“Aye and I thank my blessings you’re choosing not to.” Malcolm replied with a wry smile, weighing up his options, and figuring it was worth the risk. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before heaving himself up off the floor.

Thankfully Janice didn’t punch him, nor did she respond to his kiss, accepting it rather than returning it.

Moving towards the door Malcolm paused suddenly, the thought crossing his mind and the fear made him stop and glance back at Janice. “You’ll still be here when I come back, right?”

So it really wasn’t an act. Something tightly wound in Janice’s stomach slowly uncoiled. There was probably a story there but now was not the time to go into that. “I’ll still be here. As long as you come back for me.”

Shooting Janice a grin that was all Malcolm Tucker, and yet the insecure boy still lurked somewhere about the eyes, despite his cockiness on the surface. “Always!”

\---/---


	28. Chapter 28

Day 35: 10.45 Highclare Castle  
\---/---

Drowning himself in a punchbowl had never seemed like a viable option before, yet the longer Malcolm had to listen to the bunch of blowhards witter on about nothing, well whiskey and Tories and kidney stones. It seemed there was a certain constant when dealing with gentlemen of a certain age.

So death by Whiskey punch was starting to sound like a good idea. Either that or finally making his excuses and hoping against hope Janice really had forgiven him…well enough for a little nightcap of their own.

Malcolm had made the decision to remain conspicuously sober. One because it was professional and Malcolm needed to be on his toes, since he had to be clever enough to serve both masters and not get caught out. Secondly because his chances of getting Janice cuddles would diametrically decrease if he turned up half soaked.

“Come on man your glass is empty!” A particularly offensive bloated that had been introduced to Malcolm as Lord M expounded, before slapping Malcolm firmly on the back, then leaning heavily on him as the fat fuck overbalanced.

It was a strain to keep his smile in place. The Lord’s breath stank of wine and cigar smoke and Malcolm resented having a stranger encroach in his personal space like this. Using him as a personal prop was bad enough, but to drape his arm over his shoulder and rub his arm…well if the fucker wasn’t already pie eyed Malcolm would have thought he was hitting on him…it just made his hackles rise as it triggered other memories Malcolm would much rather stay buried.

It was only the fact that Lord M was their host, and therefore responsible for the fundraiser that stopped Malcolm from punching him out when the old soak’s hand wandered down his arm.

“No thank you.” Malcolm tried to protest, but Lord M filled his glass anyway, and then in what he probably thought was a subtle manner, whispered just quieter than a bellow in Malcolm’s ear.

“You should join us upstairs…the after party is always far more fun.” Lord M insisted.

“Thank you but I really am tired.” Malcolm did his best to remain polite. A party where half the occupants would end up reminiscing over port and then drunkenly dribbling down their dress shirts, well he could pass on that.

“Might be some pretty girls.” Lord M added suggestively, eyeing Malcolm’s reaction with surprising clarity for a man half cut.

“Really not for me.” Malcolm insisted politely, his desire to escape growing as Lord M’s hand drifted down from his arm to rest on his hip.

“Well if you’re not interested in the girls…”

“No thank you!” Malcolm growled reaching down he gripped Lord M’s hand before the idiot could actually start molesting him. “Please excuse me.” He added, holding on the veneer of polite refusal for as a long as it took to break free.

The rest of the gathering was going strong but Malcolm couldn’t find it in him to care. Just for tonight they could go fuck themselves, he was done. Slipping out of the dining room Malcolm sighed in relief at the cool fresh air. He was going to need to scrub his skin clean to get rid of the stench in there. Perhaps if he was lucky Janice might be persuaded to join him?

A certain brunette in mind Malcolm all but bounded up the staircase, apologising when he all but bumped into a couple of pretty women who were heading up themselves, but at a far more sedate pace.

“Sorry.” It was a passing comment and Malcolm didn’t pause to hear their reaction.

He made it to his room without breaking into a sweat and Malcolm fumbled in his jacket pocket for his key. Opening the door quietly, just in case Janice had fallen asleep, Malcolm was pleased to find the television on and a nightgown wearing Janice sprawled out on the bed.

“Fuck you are a sight for sore eyes.” Malcolm sighed in relief, as he shrugged off his dinner jacket, before lowering himself to sit on the bed, as he started on his shoes. “What a waste of an evening.”

“Hmmm what a surprise.” Janice yawned, stretching out in a manner that was deliberately provocative. “I always hated those dinners.”

“Yes well at least you are a professional sweetheart…those bastards are an embarrassment. It’s just an excuse to get pissed and grope people.” Malcolm huffed as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on to his growing pile of clothes.

Sniggering Janice turned off the television, setting the remote down as she patted the empty space beside her. “Sounds like a certain Lord I’ve met once or twice.”

“The man is a bloody nightmare.” Malcolm shucked off his trousers and underwear before launching himself back onto the bed, at least it was comfy even if it was a little on the small side. “It was a good job you weren’t there; if he’d have laid a finger on you like that I would have laid the fucker out.”

Rolling her eyes at Malcolm’s dramatics Janice pressed her hand against his chest. “No you wouldn’t, you’ve got more sense than that, you might have humiliated him, something that would hurt a lot longer than a black eye…besides I’m not exactly his type.”

“Oh aye well I suspected as much when he tried to grab my arse.” Malcolm snorted, wrapping his arm around Janice’s waist and pulling her closer. “Hmmm this is nice…is it new?” He asked fingering the silk of the slip of a nightgown she was wearing.

“Maybe…”Janice teased, reaching up and running her hands into Malcolm’s riotous curls. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh I like it…oh and look so does my wee man…he really likes it.” Malcolm drawled suggestively pressing against her.

“Well I don’t think they come in his size.” Janice teased, her fingers tugging on his curls, and Malcolm obligingly rolled them over.

“Just as long as it comes in your size, that’s all that matters.” Malcolm growled, his hands dipping down to stroke her bare thighs.

“Hmm and not Lord M’s?” Janice needled him further, relishing the look of horror and revulsion that warped his face.

“Never…ever mention that man’s name to me again.” Malcolm insisted leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder, his finger flicking the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder.

Giggling as his kisses tickled Janice wrapped her legs up and over Malcolm’s hips. “Hmmm just be thankful he didn’t ask you to one of his “parties”.”

Pausing as he trailed his lips down the newly revealed skin, Malcolm couldn’t help but ask his spider senses were tingling. “He did.”

“Oh well you had a close escape there darling, by party read orgy.”

Lifting his head in surprise Malcolm stared at Janice. “You didn’t…”

“Not knowingly.” Janice blushed. “He invited me and Jackie when I was a newbie MP…I could have died when I realised what was going on. He even ships in extra guests.” Janice waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I left as soon as I could…Jackie stayed.”

Sitting up Malcolm disentangled them. “You are telling me right now in this hotel, half of the campaign sponsors and politicians are engaged in some sort of orgy with paid extras? And how on earth has this never leaked out?”

“Probably because half of the local newspaper owners will be there.” Janice replied, her mood souring as Malcolm pulled away and began to reach for his clothes. “Malcolm I know you take your job seriously but you can’t protect them all the time…Please just come back to bed.”

Torn…Malcolm was torn in two.

This was what he had been waiting for, the big scandal that had been right under his nose, and yet it had it been Janice again that had led him to it. There would be so many people there that Malcolm could slip in, take some pictures and slip out, and who was to know who was the leak? He could send them straight to Jamie tonight, and be out of this whole mess come morning and on his way to easy street by the end of the week.

“Malcolm?”

And then there was Janice, if he disappeared now and then those pictures appeared in the paper she would know it was him. She would know he used her and lied to her and that would be it, they would be over and Malcolm couldn’t lose her.

“Sorry…I’m just a little…Sorry.” Malcolm shook his head, his heart lurching as Janice stared up at him so trustingly. “It just threw me a little…”

“That’s ok do you need some water? You look like you’re going to be sick.” Janice couldn’t help but be concerned. Malcolm looked genuinely affected by what she had told him.

“Yes…Yes that sounds good.” Malcolm replied, sinking back down onto the bed as Janice slipped passed him and headed into the small bathroom.

It was a small window, yet Malcolm was a master texter, he retrieved the small phone Jamie had given him, a quick message was composed and sent all before Janice had finished running the water. The phone was thrown across the room, into his pile of clothing and Malcolm was back on the bed when Janice re-emerged.

Accepting the glass of water Malcolm sipped at it, the guilt in his stomach churning a little as Janice worried over him. It was done and it was all in Jamie’s hands now, Malcolm was wiping his own of the business from now on. From now on his priority was Janice, no more difficult compromises, she…they came first.

Setting the glass down on the solitary bedside table Malcolm opened his arms to Janice who happily sank down into his lap.

“Feeling better?” She asked him resting her hand against his cheek, pleasantly surprised when Malcolm leant up and kissed her softly.

Shifting his hands down to cup Janice’s backside and giving it a suggestive squeeze Malcolm lifted her up and then fell back on to the bed pulling her with him. Rolling them over Malcolm waggled his majestic eyebrows provocatively. “Hmm why don’t you tell me?”

\---/---


	29. Chapter 29

Day 36: 1am Highclare castle  
\---/---

It was an irritating buzzing noise that wouldn’t let up.

Janice mumbled beside him in bed, shifting fitfully and Malcolm found himself on the end of a flailing wrist. That woke him enough for Malcom to realise it was a phone on silent vibrating…his phone.

Swearing under his breath Malcolm gingerly got out of bed, a glance at Janice showed she had buried her head under the duvet and was back to snoring softly. Unfortunately for Malcolm the phone didn’t stop ringing, so he had no excuse not to answer it when he dug it out.

Slipping into the bathroom Malcolm closed the door and accepted the call.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

Gritting his teeth Malcolm resisted the urge to raise his own voice as Jamie’s less than dulcet tones echoed out of the speaker.

“And good fucking morning to you to Jamie.” Malcolm hissed back. “I was asleep, like most normal people at…” Malcolm paused looking at the screen display. “It’s 1am Jamie don’t you have tyres to slash or tramps to piss on?”

“Oh ha fucking ha!” Jamie’s sneer was audible. “You should be downstairs letting in the fucking photographer, I texted you he’d be there about midnight, poor bastards balls have practically frozen off by now.”

“Oh.” Another glance at his phone did show an unopened message and Malcolm felt his heart sink. He did not want to get any further involved in this; it could quite easily blow up in his fucking face.

“Just go down and let him and get him into that damn party. You’re there to do a job Malcolm; you won’t get rewarded if you don’t see this through. No Picture, No Job, got it fucktard!”

“I am not…” Malcolm began only for Jamie to put the phone down on him.

“Fuck….fuck….fuck fuck.” Malcolm hissed glaring down at the blank display. He should ring Jamie back and tell him to do his own dirty work, only Malcolm had accepted this job which meant right now he was the shit shoveller!

Phone clamped between his lips Malcolm re-entered the bedroom, he reached for his clothes, trying his best to remain quiet as he pulled on trousers and his shirt, not fastening it as he picked up his jacket and shoes. The key…fuck he couldn’t see where he had left it…fuck well he could always get a spare one from reception, say he left in his room, well it wasn’t a lie.

He finished dressing in the corridor. Pulling on shoes and buttoning up his shirt. Right now to find a fucking photographer lurking in the undergrowth and smuggle into a party Malcolm a) didn’t want to go to, and b) didn’t know where the fuck it was; Jesus it was like an episode of Mission Impossible.

Photographer first, with any luck he might have fucked off home by now and it would be out of Malcolm’s hands.

The lobby area was pretty much empty, there was the noise of a few people laughing coming from the bar area, which was good as it would look suspicious if there was no one else still about. Heading for the double doors Malcolm hit his first snag when he reached them and they wouldn’t open. Rattling them in his frustration Malcolm almost jumped out of his skin when somewhere spoke over his shoulder.

“Can I assist you sir?”

“Oh fuck me…Yes…sorry…” Malcolm all but screamed, yet even in his shock he caught sight of the slight frown puckered at the security guards face. “I need to…”

“The building has been locked up for the night.”

“Yes I can see that.” Malcolm replied, doing his best to not let it show on his face, that Malcolm was certain he was faced with the only person stupider than his right bollock.

“But I need to get something from my car, the wife’s insisting…” Malcolm added, sighing with just the right amount of long suffering commiseration between males that normally broke the ice, yet bollock face just stared at him blankly. “Could you just unlock it for a few minutes please?”

It was like watching the procession of an ice age, Malcolm could almost swear he could see the man thinking.

“His Lordship doesn’t like the doors unlocking, not unless there is an emergency.”

“Yes well this is an emergency…You know of the lady persuasion…she’s got some of the necessaries in a bag in the car.” Malcolm bullshitted, surely this would work.

The recoil actually seemed to happen in slow motion, yet there was something gratifying to know, that even male pond scum was revolted by the very hint of a period.

“I suppose I can make an exception.” The right bollock pond scum security guard conceded, and he reached down for the keys on his belt. Unlocking the door.

“Thanks I’ll just be a few minutes.” Malcolm insisted stepping outside, his panic growing when the guard moved to lock the door behind him. “I really will be quick no need to…”

“I will wait here for you to return.” The pond scum insisted. “As it’s an emergency.”

“Right…thanks…” Fuck….Fuck…

Waving a jaunty thank you Malcolm stepped out in the freezing night air. He made a hasty trek to the small car park, stepping quickly out of sight of the house.

“Hello…its Malcolm…Hello…Jamie sent me.” Malcolm called out, rubbing his hands together as he hoped against hope there would be no answer and he would be able to head back inside with a clean conscience.

There was a blessed few moments of silence, in which Malcolm’s hopes rose and then…

“You took your fucking time.” And the crunch of gravel underfoot dashed them completely.

“Yeah well thems the breaks.” Malcolm replied, not caring the slightest. “Got a little bit of a problem with the security guard, he keeps the door locked.”

“That’s your problem, you get me in or I am fucking off, freezed my bollocks off long enough on this job already.”

“Right…fine…don’t help or anything.” Malcolm muttered before heading back towards the hotel entrance.

As expected Lurch was still standing by the main doors.

“Stay in the shadows, just don’t fucking let him see you and get near the doors.” Malcolm hissed as he made a show of storming across the drive.

Grinning in what he hoped was a winning, if slightly hopeless way, Malcolm waited until bollock face opened the door.

“Sorry to ask but you wouldn’t happen to have a torch? Damn boot light has gone and I can’t see a bloody thing.”

“No…I…”

“Well what about behind reception?” Malcolm barrelled on, storming ahead as if to go look himself, leaving bollock face with a choice, or either letting a member of the public rummage around where he shouldn’t or leaving the door unguarded.

Malcolm deliberately made as much noise as he could as he slammed the fold out back and stepped behind the desk, knocking over things before moving to head through into the back office

“Sir please you can’t just go behind there!” The guard had clearly chosen to follow him and Malcolm could only hope the dickhead photographer knew how to take a bloody hint.

“You really can’t go through there…I must insist you stop.”

“Fine why don’t you look for me then!” Malcolm insisted, stepping back and shooing the flustered guard through into the back room. “They must have something back there.”

Ignoring the muttered complaints Malcolm glanced back over his shoulder to the thankfully unlocked and open doors. A moment later the photographer slipped inside and following Malcolm’s frantic hand signals slipped quickly down the lobby towards the stairs. Well part a) was complete now Malcolm just had to get him into the party…wherever it might be…

A quick glance on the back wall showed the numerous rooms and in each little cubbyhole there were either one or two keys. Spotting the one for his room, Malcolm pocketed it quickly, there that was his escape sorted…Now where would he hold an orgy?

Penthouse suite…it had to be…he had a split second to pull this off and Malcolm swiped that key as well. Not a moment too soon as the next second the guard returned torch in hand which he handed over most reluctantly.

“Thank you.” Malcolm supplied, and he genuinely meant it, slipping back around the desk and heading out to conclude his “cover mission”.

A few moments later a shivering Malcolm was let back into the building by a guard who was nearing the end of his patience. Handing him back the torch Malcolm made every effort to make himself scarce; heading for the stairs like there was a demon on his tail. The photographer hadn’t gone far, lingering like a bad smell around the bottom of the stairs.  
“Right follow me and we bump into anyone try to look like you’re pissed or something.” Malcolm insisted as they made their way up the stairs, as they got closer to the top, there was the sound of a banging door that barely muffled the sound of music and laughing.

“Right show time.” Malcolm muttered as they set foot on the floor.

There were a couple of pretty girls wearing very little hanging about in the corridor, they were passing something between them that looked suspiciously like a spliff of some kind, yet a little casual drug use wasn’t what they were here for. Still it would help get them inside if Malcolm and his “friend” didn’t just walk in.

“Evening ladies.” Malcolm tried his most charming smile, and clearly it still worked a little, they at least paused long enough to look him up and down assessingly. 

Having passed whatever test, physical but most probably monetary, one of the girls smiled and offered him a drag.

“Hi.” She smiled and flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her European accent only adding to her appeal. “You looking to party yes?”

“Aye well that sounds like a fun idea.” Malcolm winked, taking a pull on the spliff and trying his hardest not to gag, fuck that was strong.

“You like champagne?” Her brunette friend asked, wrapping her arm around her friend’s shoulders as she ran her hand suggestively down over the blonde breasts. “We love champagne makes us feel all friendly.” She added with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Hmm well why don’t we all join the party and see if we can find some.” Malcolm suggested waving towards the shut door.

Pouting a little at not getting to host their own private party the two girls shrugged by seemed happy to play along, turning and knocking on the door where a huge looking bouncer type blocked it temporarily.

“Come on Hieny let us back in, we promise to be good, look we found some new friends to play with.” The blonde teased, throwing her arm about Malcolm’s shoulder as the brunette did for the so far silent photographer.

Malcolm could feel Heiny’s gaze stripping him down to his bollocks, the seven foot shit house bouncer was like a human wall, yet he stepped aside when Lord M suddenly called out.

“Malcolm you decided to join us after all! Naughty boy I thought you said you didn’t like pretty girls.”

Shit…Fuck…Bollocks…

No job was going to be worth this.

\---/---


	30. Chapter 30

Day 36: 3am Highclare Castle  
\---/---

Malcolm’s side of the bed was cold, not just cool but cold, he hadn’t just slipped off to the bathroom. Janice didn’t want to think the worst. In fact she lay there for a good half an hour, thinking of all the reasonable reasons that Malcolm might have left her bed…in the middle of the night…without waking her.

It was a short list.

Far longer was the list of unreasonable reasons and top of that list was the party Janice knew was going on several floors above her.

Had she been such a fool to think Malcolm’s reaction to her revelation was genuine disgust? He had looked distressed, Janice was sure of that much. But perhaps that distress was more Malcolm cursing his luck, that he had found out too late what sort of party he had turned down, turned down for her, and that it was too late to change his mind?

No…No you will not think the worst of him.

Trust was at the heart of any relationship, and Malcolm had never given her the slightest indication that there was any woman he was interested in, other than her.

Neither had Jackie at first.

And Janice had spent years totally oblivious to her husband’s interest, not just in other women, but in other men; so suffice it to say Janice somewhat doubted her own judgement, and powers of observation.

If she were a braver woman she would go up there herself. Yet Janice took comfort in that if it was cowardice to hide from confronting the truth, well then she didn’t care. She’d rather be happy and be a coward, than brave and be miserable.

Only that wasn’t true, it was just something she told herself to try and convince herself it was the truth. Currently she was a coward and unhappy as well.

Pulling back the covers Janice turned on the bedside light, the small room flooded with the dull yellow light and there was no sign of Malcolm…his dinner suit and shoes had gone…he had even left the door key on the dressing table. Well if there was a sign that he wasn’t on planning on coming back tonight there it was.

Of course he might not just have been able to find it in the dark and…

God she was pathetic, even now clinging to the most pathetic of excuses.

And yet Janice wouldn’t let that hope go, there might be an explanation for all this, it might not be what she was thinking. Hope for the best but prepare for the worst, that was what her Mam always said and if anyone would know she would. Well Janice could hold out hope a little longer but that didn’t have to stop her preparing either.

Padding over to her clothes Janice pulled on the clothes she had driven here in, methodically pulling them on and the padding around the room to gather her things together. Her overnight bag was tucked in the footwell of the dressing table and Janice retrieved it quickly, stuffing her make up bag, hairbrush, underwear…everything was dumped in, not carefully folded like normal.

All except the red dress…his dress…Janice couldn’t bear to look at it, let alone touch it. So that she left draped over the back of the desk chair.

Janice even slipped her jacket and brogues on, then clutching her car keys in her hand she settled down on top of the covers and switched the bedside light back off. She wasn’t going to sleep, but she needed the element of surprise if it came to the worst.

Just a few hours. She’d wait for Malcolm for a few more hours, then Janice was leaving, and then there would be no begging or apology in the world that would get her to forgive him a third time.

\---/---

There were things that couldn’t be unseen. Not even if he scratched his own eyes out.

Malcolm couldn’t have been more relieved when the photographer he had smuggled in gave him the nod from across the room. So far he had fended off groping hands from all manner of people and it was only by sequestering himself in the corner, a sleeping doped up half clothed blonde draped over his lap as a deterrent against needing additional “company”, that Malcolm had survived with his relative innocence intact.

But he couldn’t un-see things, his mind had been violated, even if his body was safe for the time being.

Never again. No matter the incentive.

Spotting the pretty blonde’s brunette friend across the room on her knees giving some bloke a blow job, Malcolm at least waited until she was finished before shifting the blonde on to his seat. After she had served as protection for him, Malcolm didn’t feel right simply abandoning the drugged up girl in a room full of perverts. No matter what her profession, she still had the right to choose for herself who she did and didn’t fuck, and there were one or two people in this room Malcolm doubted shared that opinion.

“Hey…Claudia wasn’t it.” Malcolm called out to the brunette who was wiping her chin. “Can you help me move her somewhere safe?”

Laughing as if Malcolm had said something extremely funny Claudia sashayed over to him, her tits visible over the top of her dress that had been pulled down.

“Does the nice man want to party now?” She giggled reaching out to cup Malcolm’s crotch, only for him to grab her wrist tightly.

“No he doesn’t.” Malcolm hissed in a tone that cut through even her buzz. “You’re friend we can’t leave her here, it’s not safe.” He added and then as if to prove his point one of the old perverts came over and started to fondle the passed out blonde thigh, sliding his hand up…

“Hey you leave her the fuck alone!” Malcolm barked, causing the lecherous old pervert to jump up and spill his drink.

“Lord M…”

“I don’t care what the fuck he paid for, she’s in the no state to do anything, go find another person to suck that wrinkly old cock of yours….well if they can find it!” Malcolm snapped, no longer caring what these people thought of her, he was out of here, hell if his boss had been part of the party, thankfully he wasn’t, well Malcolm would have given his resignation that very second.

“Do you have a room we can take her to?” Malcolm prompted Claudia who looked at him like he had just asked her to calculate a quadratic equation.

“Fine…just help me get her out of here.” Malcolm asked, yet Claudia merely giggled, freeing her hand to swan back into the party.

“Fuck…Fuck…” The photographer had already left and Malcolm was torn, he could just leave, but he couldn’t. He might be a bastard sometimes but he wasn’t that kind of a bastard.

Somehow Malcolm managed to manoeuvre the blonde’s deadweight over to the door, her head lolling uncomfortably over his shoulder, only to be faced with the vast bulk of Heiny who moved to block them from leaving.

“No girls leave the party, no solo’s!” Heiny grunted.

“Look Heiny was it, look at her, she is no fit state to be here anymore, and if I leave her here…”

“No girls leave the party.” Heiny repeated but Malcolm could tell from the way his gaze shifted to the blonde that he was conflicted and Malcolm remember how the blonde had twisted the giant bouncer round her finger earlier.

“Well is there anywhere I can take that she will be safe till she sleeps this off?” Malcolm pressed the bouncer; clearly this walking mountain had a heart at least when it came to the girls.

Grunting in what Malcolm took for assent; Heiny opened the door and gestured for Malcolm to follow him. When he struggled carrying the blonde deadweight, Heiny took her from him, picking her up like she was a doll. He headed off down the corridor and Malcolm followed, not sure if he needed to or not but feeling some sort of responsibility.

There was small laundry room set around the corner and Heiny set the girl down gently. It wasn’t ideal but it was out of the way and better than just leaving her in the party.

“Ok…” Malcolm supposed he could live with it. The only other option was taking her with him, and Malcolm doubted there was an excuse good enough that would explain that to Janice.

“I’ll just be…” Malcolm added, not surprised when Heiny turned and left without another word. “Right a fucking pleasure talking to you mate.” Malcolm called after him.

Slumping against the wall Malcolm run his hands over his face. He hadn’t felt this utterly spent and wretched in years, like he was running on pure adrenaline and that had trailed off to a drip that was running dry. He needed to sleep….fuck no he needed a shower and then to sleep. There was no way he could crawl into bed with Janice stinking of stale booze, skunk and cheap perfume.

His fucking luck just wasn’t that good.

Heading down the stairs, the key in his pocket felt like a lead weight….dragging him down…down.

His room was right at the end of the corridor and Malcolm slid the key into the lock, turning it as quietly as he could. The room was still in darkness and Malcolm couldn’t fucking believe it…for a whole thirty seconds he couldn’t believe it, perhaps the Almighty really did love him after all.

Then Janice switched on the light and Malcolm was forced back into reality. His girlfriend was sat there fully dressed, her coat on, packed bag on the bed, tears brimming over, and Malcolm said the first thing that came to mind.

“It really isn’t what you think…”

\---/---


	31. Chapter 31

Ok you've probably been waiting for this chapter, and with hits ending in 666, it really is ominously appropriate, enjoy...and then review, I can't wait to hear what you think ;-)

 

Day 36: 4am Highclare Castle  
\---/---

“It really isn’t what you think…”

Balling her fists in her lap Janice just wished she had something to throw. How dare Malcolm come in here at this time, looking and smelling like he had been dragged through a brothel, and try to tell her, she was jumping to conclusions?

“How dare you…”

“Janice sweetheart please…please just listen to me.”

“No I have had enough of listening to your excuses Malcolm!” Janice snapped getting to her feet, wrapping her hands around the handle of her bag, lest she resort to more violent means to shut him up.

“You are so good with words dearest.” Janice literally sneered the endearment. “I really shouldn’t be surprised; it’s what you’re paid for after all. Well I have had my fill of them.”

Approaching her cautiously, Malcolm eyed Janice warily, she had already packed, she was ready to leave him, and Malcolm was under no illusions that if she left this room now, without him being able to tell her the truth, then there was no chance of ever getting another opportunity.

“I haven’t cheated on you Janice…I know it looks bad but I swear…”

“Do you think I can believe any more of your promises Malcolm?” Janice shook her head in disbelief.

Did he honestly not get it? He couldn’t keep promising not to hurt her, and then keep hurting her, even if he hadn’t actually screwed another woman, he had left her bed in the middle of the night without a thought for her. Did he not think how hurt she would be, how worried? He hurt her without even meaning to, his careless actions were like sharp claws across her already wounded heart, and she couldn’t keep opening it up to damage.

“But I am telling the truth.” Malcolm insisted, god if he wasn’t a man grown he might even have stamped his foot. “I would never do that to you, never!”

“Congratulations, that only makes you half a bastard!” Janice spat back. God why were they even doing this, it was pointless. He was never going to get it.

“I just…I just can’t do this anymore.” Janice added her voice suddenly small and tired. “I’m sorry but I think it’s best I just…”

“No…No!” Malcolm refused to accept it. He wasn’t giving up on them, not when they were so close to having it all, and he couldn’t let Janice give up on him. “Just let me explain…I can explain it all…Just please don’t leave.”

Malcolm could hear the tears in his own voice; it cracked with emotion he rarely showed. “I can’t let it end like this Janice, I love you.”

No…He didn’t…he didn’t dare say that now. Janice could feel her anger blazing hot inside her. How dare he tell her that now?

The first fist caught his chest; the second aimed for his jaw but missed and then was brought down on his shoulder, as a furious Janice flew at him. Janice was the only second woman he had ever used that word with, and to honest, even with his bitch of an ex, Malcolm had never been attacked as a result.

“I hate you.” Janice screamed, not pulling her punches, even if they landed wildly, and did little real damage. “How can you…how dare you say that now? You complete bastard!”

“Because I do…I do…” Malcolm reached up, trying to wrap this flailing wildcat up in his arms, yet Janice didn’t want to be held, well not by him. “I love you. I love you Janice McCann and that won’t change even if you decide to hate me, but please if you are going to hate me, do it for the right reasons…the real reason.”

Stilling at his words Janice felt the fight slowly drain out of her. What good would the truth do? Other than knowing why she should hate him?

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it does, because sometime the truth is all we have, because I won’t have you thinking for a second that any of this has been your fault, that there was something, anything lacking in you.” Malcolm paused, watching Janice’s expression closely.

He knew her too well by now, knew that under that façade there was a young girl always trying to be perfect so she could be worthy of her father’s love. Malcolm couldn’t add to that burden, even if it was over, he could still do his best to limit the damage, to Janice at least.

“I went to the party tonight…” Malcolm paused lifting his hand to fall stall Janice when she opened her mouth. “Not because I wanted to, that sort of thing disgusts me, but to smuggle in a photographer.”

Of all the things Janice had expected to hear as an excuse that had never even figured. Her brow scrunched in confusion, it just didn’t make sense unless…

Malcolm could see the moment the truth began to dawn on Janice’s face.

“Yes I’m a mole…an inside man…a double agent.” Malcolm listed all the alternatives. “I was sent here by some old colleagues of mine, to undermine the campaign, and last night gave me the perfect opportunity to do so.”

Shaking Janice sank down onto the bed. Why had she never considered that? Because she was a naïve trusting idiot, that was why. Her own brain supplied the answer, and Janice couldn’t help the sick feeling that churned in her stomach.

“So what was I, just a nice bonus, someone to screw whilst you screwed over the people that trusted you?”

“No!” Malcolm was emphatic in his answer. “Janice I didn’t even lay a finger on you until you were no longer involved in the campaign. I mean I wanted to…that night in your office…fuck you were so beautiful and I already knew I fancied you something rotten. If I was really the complete bastard you think I am, why wouldn’t I have fucked right over that desk? Let’s be honest now, we both know if I’d kissed you, I could have had you…”

“So I’m easy as well as an idiot.” Janice hissed, reaching up to brush angry tears from her cheeks.

“No…no.” Malcolm softened his tone. “You are the most wonderful person Janice, hell I had vowed never to let anyone close to me again, and you slipped passed all those walls I had built up, like they weren’t even there. You’ve wrapped yourself around my heart so completely, I think if you aren’t there to hold it together…” Malcolm trailed off.

“So why do this?”

“It was a job.” Malcolm replied honestly. God it was so fucking embarrassing to admit it out loud.

“I’m all but broke Janice you know this. I have my flat in London, but the rental I get from that covers the mortgage and some of my ex’s alimony but I have to work. I maxed out my credit cards months ago and no one in London would hire me. When Jamie came to me and asked for my help, promised paid work now and a bonus later on, a proper job, a directorship…Well I couldn’t afford to turn it down. I didn’t want to turn it down.”

“So it’s about money?”

“No it’s about pride, and a lifetime of work and experience going to fucking waste!” Malcolm snapped, before hanging his head in shame. “And maybe a little about the money…Everyone had written me off, I was supposed to go to jail you know, it cost me all my savings for a decent brief who managed to get me off the charges. I wasn’t going to let that be the end of my story. I still refuse to accept it.”

“So you agreed to sell your integrity to the highest bidder?”

Snorting in amusement, sometimes Malcolm forgot just how naïve and downright good Janice still was, despite her few years in politics.

“Darling I sold my soul in the business years ago, all that was left was a dried husk. You forget this was before you, before I had even considered there could be another life for me. So why not sell out? My integrity wasn’t worth, not having a roof over my head, or going hungry. You’ve never been there Janice, where you have to make that choice; I couldn’t afford to have principles anymore.”

Malcolm might have a small point there Janice had never been there, had never been forced to make that decision. She liked to think that her morals would guide her to make a different choice. Janice wasn’t a proud woman. If she had to clean other people’s houses to earn her keep then she would.

Yet even if she could accept the truth in what Malcolm was saying, that it had been his choice to sell out, that he considered it a fair trade, Janice couldn’t accept the betrayal of her trust. He had used her, used the things she had told him, thinking stupidly he could be trusted. Even if she wasn’t technically part of the campaign anymore, he knew she supported it, and political differences aside it was wrong to lie and spy on people you claimed to work for. It was even worse to do so to the woman sharing her home and her bed with you.

“This was what you said I would hate you if I knew the truth, why you didn’t call me when you went back to Edinburgh alone?”

“Aye…” Malcolm admitted, and it was most if not the whole truth.

“What else are you keeping from me Malcolm?” Janice asked, not surely she really wanted to know the answer, she could tell by the expression on his face that had suddenly gone evasive there was more.

Yet a nagging realisation was slowly dawning…Janice didn’t need to ask…he didn’t need to tell…there was only one thing worse that what he had done tonight, something that struck far harder and deeper than the exposure of some perverted party donors.

“Please tell me it wasn’t you, that it was all Martin…” Yet from the way Malcolm couldn’t meet her gaze Janice had her answer.

Malcolm had been the one to catch Martin and her in a clinch, however unwilling on her part; he had been the one to hear, from her own lips about their very brief affair. She had handed him every piece of information needed to destroy her reputation and her career, and then like an idiot she had blindly believed he was the one trying to protect her.

“How could you?” Janice couldn’t believe it, she didn’t want to, not her, everyone else she might be able to understand if not forgive, but to sell her out as well.

Malcolm didn’t have an answer; looking back now he couldn’t justify what he had done to the woman he loved. That he hadn’t known he would fall for her wouldn’t exactly cut it. “Janice I…”

“You lied to me; you used me, destroyed my career, and then if that wasn’t enough you came back into my life and made me fall in love with you? Just what is wrong with you? You’re sick…sick!” Janice spat out recoiling physically from Malcolm, just the sight of him was making her stomach churn.

She had to get out of here…she couldn’t look at him a moment longer. Her destroyed career and the remaining façade of her marriage, her husband’s death, and the subsequent estrangement from her son; all of these resulted from Malcolm’s selfish actions. He had blood on his hands and because of him so did she, blood she could never wipe clean.

Janice didn’t bother with her bag; she pushed passed Malcolm, her hand on the door handle.

She was leaving…really leaving…

Malcolm didn’t know what possessed him, he couldn’t allow Janice to just walk away, he crossed the room and pressed his weight against the door, pushing it shut when Janice tried to open it.

“Let me go or I’ll scream.” Janice hissed, genuinely scared as she felt Malcolm block her exit, she could feel him press against her, his breath ragged against her ear, so close she could feel his heart pounding. “I’ll scream and tell them everything you’ve just confessed to me, I’ll ruin you Malcolm and then everything you sacrificed will be for nothing!”

“None of it matters if I can’t have you.” Malcolm pleaded with her. “I love you…If I had to choose right now between taking that new job and you, Janice I would choose you every time. I’ll call Jamie right now and tell him to stuff his position, I will, just please, please don’t leave me.”

It shouldn’t have mattered, after everything Malcolm had already done, Janice shouldn’t have cared, but she did and that was dangerous. She was already too susceptible to Malcolm’s influence. She had to make him let her go before her stupid heart won out over her head.

“Take your consolation prize Mr Tucker.” Janice hissed looking back over her shoulder, her blue eyes like burning ice as they bore into Malcolm’s.

“Because there is nothing in the world you could say now, that would ever have me trust, a single thing you say.” Then pushing a stunned Malcolm away with a sharp push, Janice opened the hotel door and stepped through it, pulling it shut behind her, before Malcolm could say a single word.

\---/---


	32. Chapter 32

Day 66: Janice  
\---/---

Gin was her new best friend…no scratch that right now Gin was her only friend.

The kitchen floor was cold but Janice couldn’t find the will, or to be honest the coordination, to lift herself off of it right now. Instead she poured another sizable slosh of gin into her glass, oopsing herself as she missed the rim and sploshed the thankfully clear liquid over her hand, and down the side of the glass. Still waste not want not, Janice sucked up the dribbles as they trailed down her fingers, relishing the happy burn of the alcohol.

She was celebrating.

Janice McCann was now officially a free woman. No husband, no boyfriend, no child depending on her, and now no job.

Janice had given up waiting for her local party to make a decision about whether they would deselect her, she had taken the decision into her own hands, had appeared before a local party meeting only a few hours early and officially handed them her resignation.

She was free, free for the first time in her life. Janice could go anywhere her heart desired, and yet her heart wasn’t capable of doing anything but crying. She had done the right thing, the only thing she could do when she had learnt the truth about Malcolm, he really had been using her, just like the others, albeit in in a different way. It was a decision she couldn’t regret making…she just wished someone could tell her heart that.

So gin…it at least numbed things, made the pain a little easier to bear.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Blinking Janice tried to work out was making the noise.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

It wasn’t her phone that she had thrown across the room when the calls and messages from party officials had begun to flood in. They could all stick their commiserations and questions where the sun didn’t shine.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Oh it was the front door bell.

Well she wasn’t answering that. Even half cut Janice knew that answering the door to what was probably a nosy journalist was a bad idea. She had put all the reasons she was prepared to give in her resignation letter, the rest was none of their business.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Why weren’t they going away?

Janice was glad the kitchen was at the side of the house, she wouldn’t be visible if one of the paparazzi decided to take a peak in the front windows.

Oh good they had gone. Sipping her gin Janice allowed her eyes to fall close, at least that way she could pretend her vision hadn’t gone all blurry as the tears began to run down her cheeks. For tonight she would allow them, just tonight. Tomorrow was going to be the start of the rest of her life, so what if she started it with a hangover, it was where she finished and not where she started that was really important.

\---/---  
Day 67: Malcolm  
\---/---

It was a month…a month since Janice McCann had walked out of his life, leaving behind a desiccated husk of a man who went by the name of Malcolm Tucker.

Malcolm woke in the morning, showered, ate his breakfast, read the papers, got to work early (there were still new bosses to impress), sat down with his assistant to go through the day’s events, half-heartedly cussed out whatever fucking idiot he had to bully back into line that morning…then rinse and repeat.

He had received his first executive pay cheque the other day and even the number of digits on the pay slip did nothing to raise his mood. The money was still there sitting in his bank account, bills were paid automatically now, yet Malcolm hadn’t touched it for anything else. That exotic holiday he had spent time fantasizing about whilst he was still in Edinburgh, was now the furthest thing from his mind. He’d only burn anyway.

Besides he had a job to do…And Malcolm always delivered.

What was once a point of pride was now tinged with bitterness…He always delivered, even when it was in direct opposition to his own best interest. Jamie got his blackmail material, the No campaign got leverage over some serious Yes campaign contributors, some of whom had publically started to raise “strategic concerns” with independence. There would be a steady drip feed from now until the vote in May, with several major publications being strong-armed into changing their editorial position.

Oh it was all done in civilised hints, yet there was no hiding the truth, politics was a shit heap of crap and Malcolm was better off out it. Only he wasn’t as out of it as he would have liked. This new job was a grace and favour position, it was given as a reward but Malcolm was under no illusion, that no matter how well he performed, if certain people wanted him out…then out he would be.

At the soft rap of his new assistant on his office door Malcolm sighed, forcing a polite smile on to his lips as the pretty skittish blonde entered. She was no Sam and Malcolm still had to rein in his tongue around her, he couldn’t afford to upset her when he’d been in the job less than a month. It seems Janice’s swear box had done some good after all, Malcolm had learnt a measure of control over his swearing habits.

“Apologies for the interruption Mr Tucker…”

“Malcolm...Christy, when it’s just the two of us please just call me Malcolm, Mr Tucker was my father and I have no desire to turn into him any time soon.” Malcolm repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

He knew he was an intimidating figure, and his reputation preceded him, yet Malcolm was really only vile to people who didn’t work directly for him. He had seen too many politicians treat their office staff like shit, yet it was those same staff who knew where all the skeletons were buried, shit on them once too often and you’d find all those secrets spread over the front page of the Daily mail.

“Sorry…Mr…Malcolm.” Christy stumbled over the correction and Malcolm found himself reminiscing for the days when Jamie would simply come barging into his office with ‘Good Morning you Cunt’ on his lips.

“You really don’t need to knock either when I’m on my own.”

Watching her nod, Malcolm knew Christy was just going to ignore him. “So what do you need?”

“A notification for one of those names you gave me to track just popped up…What do you want me to do?”

“Just send me the link through.” Malcolm advised, doing his best to remain calm and disinterested.

When he had first taken his post Malcolm had given his assistant a list of names to monitor through regular and social media. He didn’t have time to read everything, and yet there were certain people Malcolm felt the need to keep an eye on. Most of them were politically motivated. He had just stuck his neck out, and Malcolm wasn’t fool enough to think that that once they finished licking their ouchies, those political heavyweights wouldn’t come gunning for him, well once they managed to put two and two together, and realised just where the smoking gun was fired from.

They weren’t complete idiots and despite Malcolm using the excuse that he too was being blackmailed, that his resignation was a requirement to keep his name out of any expose, well the fact that he just walked into this post. Eventually someone would draw the connection.

The popping up of an email with a series of links was the first sign that Malcolm was once again alone, her assistant having slipped out whilst he was wool gathering. Clicking on the first one Malcolm physically recoiled when he read the headline.

“Sex Scandal MsP finally calls it quits…”

And there was a picture of Janice beneath, dressed up in something tight and provocative and looking a good ten years younger, arm in arm with a smirking Jackie McCann.

“Fuck…fuck…fuck!” Malcolm slammed his hands down on the desktop.

What on earth had possessed her to quit now?

If Malcolm had been there he would have advised her to wait, to hand in her resignation just after the result of the referendum, when the papers would have been flooded with choicest alternative headlines. It would have been buried then. Just what idiot did they have advising her?

No one…

Malcolm knew that the party had pretty much cut Janice adrift, and with the sudden turnaround in press opinion about the referendum, he doubted Janice had even gained the slightest bit of PR cover. The Yes loyalists would be firefighting and the No campaign would fan those flames, since a good sex scandal that was unconnected to the ongoing blackmail, especially one linked to a now dead Scottish national treasure.

She would be under fucking siege by now and there was no one there to help her. Malcolm felt sick. Janice had all but told him to fuck off out of her life but Malcolm had been the idiot who followed through on that. Perhaps it had been pride, he had never begged anyone for anything before, and Janice had thrown back his pleas and his declaration of love like they meant nothing, like he meant nothing. He couldn’t bear compounding that with the shame of stalking a woman, who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

So he ran away.

Malcolm had run back to London, took the job he had been promised, and tried to pretend his heart hadn’t just been shattered.

He loved her…To be honest Malcolm hadn’t even tried to pretend he didn’t.

Picking up his desk phone, Malcolm dialled a number once as familiar as his own, impatiently tapping his fingertips on the desk top.

“Caledonian Mafia!” A familiar drawl answered and Malcolm had to snort at how little fucks Jamie was giving these days. Clearly working for little prick Reeder was having far greater impact than he suspected if Jamie was answering his desk phone with that greeting.

“Jamie.” Malcolm’s grunt cut the younger man off before he could launch to a greater speel.

“Why I am honoured if it isn’t Mr big director…how’s that lofty perch of your Malcolm, getting a fucking nosebleed yet?”

“The view is pretty good thank you, and thank Sam for the potted plant, it makes the place almost bearable.” Malcolm replied politely as he clicked open the next link in the email, this one was even worse.

“So what can I do for you Malcolm, I mean unless you just called to gloat about the size of your office…Some of us have proper jobs to do you know?”

“Janice McCann.” It was a simple answer and Malcolm didn’t doubt that Jamie was already aware of what he was talking about, if he wasn’t then standards at no 10 really had slipped since he was booted out.

“Look Malcolm I’m sorry but there is nothing I can do…Ollie is going all out on this one.”

“Don’t give me that shit Jamie, you’ve already had your pound of flesh, let it go…”

“Yes well your squeeze is the gift that keeps on giving…well politically speaking.” Jamie punned before his voice dropped. “I really am not being a bastard here Malcolm, I mean what possessed her to quit now of all times?”

“Jamie please…Look I know somewhere under that bullshit armour of yours there is a heart, it might be wizened to the size of a walnut but it is there. She has already been fucking through the wringer, she’s lost her career, her husband is dead and now she gets hounded by the fucking vulture press for doing nothing worse than half the cocksuckers in Westminster. Do you really want another fucking Tickle situation on your hands?”

For a moment Jamie was silent on the other end of the phone. Tickle’s suicide had cost Malcolm’s his entire career.

“Is she really that…”

“I don’t fucking know ok, we broke up…but she knows Jamie, about the party, about my role as mole in the campaign and she hasn’t said a word to anyone about it. I owe her…we owe her. You wouldn’t have the power you do now without her telling me things; I know she wasn’t doing it deliberately but still. We protect our sources don’t we? That’s what makes us better than Ollie Fucking Reeder?”

“I…Look I’m sorry…Malcolm if I could do anything I would but Ollie is handling this personally. I think he’s worked it out, you and her, and well if he can’t get to you…”

The rest didn’t need spelling out. Ollie was gunning for Janice to punish Malcolm. It must have pushed his nose right out of joint having to rely on Malcolm to dig up the dirt, and then to have to follow through on the pay off. Malcolm had realised, nothing came with no strings attached; still this one was one string he hadn’t accounted for.

“Then create a diversion. There has to be some dirt on someone else you’ve been stashing away. One of ou…yours that you’ve been hiding, nothing that would impact the referendum campaign.” 

Malcolm knew he was grasping at straws; he no longer had access or influence but dammit he couldn’t sit here and do nothing.

“Jamie please, I can’t lose her.” Closing his eyes Malcolm realised he had come full circle, he was back to begging, but when it came to Janice McCann his pride be damned.

\---/---


	33. Chapter 33

Day 76: Janice  
\---/---

Janice wasn’t sure what had happened. For the first two days after she had resigned she had been mobbed, but now she was thankfully yesterday’s news. Perhaps her prayers had been answered or perhaps there were other powers, less all-knowing and all powerful, but more responsive if not a little nefarious at work?

Janice tried not to let herself think about it, but it was difficult to persuade her heart, that Malcolm had nothing to do with her sudden respite from the paparazzi. It could just be a coincidence, stranger things had happened. Yet it did strike her as odd when a decades old political scandal, involving a now retired former cabinet official and a string of young rent boys, suddenly exploded out of nowhere.

She was curious, but not curious enough to actually pick up the phone to ask him. Janice had been the one to tell Malcolm to take his consolation prize because he would never have her. If he was now using that power to help her that was his choice, but it didn’t mean she owed him anything. She couldn’t trust him not to hurt her again when it was politically expedient, hadn’t Malcolm already proved he would, when it came to a choice between her wellbeing and what he wanted. Oh he had offered to give it up, but Janice hadn’t really believed he was serious, he had just said it to try and stop her from leaving, his actions proved what was really important to him.

This overture…if it was really an overture…well it was much the same.

Still she shouldn’t rejoice, not when it was someone else’s suffering that had led to a temporary reprieve for her. Janice didn’t dare let herself believe that her trial by media was finally at an end. Not with the way her luck was going recently.

It was a relief to be able to leave her house without being hounded, to go to the gym without a cavalcade of paps on mopeds following her. If she was honest Janice was bemused by their interest. They had already gotten all the juicy details the first time, who really cared that she had resigned? Janice had assumed that it was simply because the rest of the news, had been dominated by the rather dry opinion politics that the referendum had degenerated into.

Still now the paps had left, Janice was finally free to invite Mary and her daughter around for another visit. It had gone well the first time, of course that might have been because Janice was proposing to increase the amount of child support being paid. In those circumstances any sane person would have been on their best behaviour. Yet Janice couldn’t just pay the money over and wash her hands of them, like so many wives would with their husband’s by-blows.

Plus it was good to have someone smile at her, hug her, even if it was a child who really didn’t know better. Janice was feeling starved of human contact and it felt good to get a hug. To have something to look forward to, to get up in the morning for, to clean the house for, to bake a special cake…

“Auntie Janice!” Isla shyness was clearly a thing of the past and Janice all but staggered back as the little dark haired dynamo barrelled into her legs.

Bending down Janice savoured the feeling of being wanted; holding the hug for as long as she could until Isla began to squirm to be put down.

“I brought my new swimming costume…Mummy said we might not be able to swim today and I shouldn’t nag you but pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee.” Isla’s words stumbled over each other in her haste to get out her request, before her embarrassed mother could shush her.

“Hmmm well I suppose since you brought your new costume…It would be a shame to waste it.” Janice replied, smoothing back the soft dark hair from the Isla’s face. She would be a pretty little thing when she grew up but with Janice’s help she wouldn’t have to rely on her looks to secure her future. She could get all the chances that Janice never got.

“Sorry.” Mary began to apologise when her daughter rushed off to change into her costume, happily treating the huge house like her own, kicking off shoes and dropping socks on the floor as she went. “I am still trying to teach her to pick up after herself.”

Laughing as she assisted in picking up the trail of clothing Janice felt her mood lighten. She hadn’t laughed in ages, it felt good. Having a child around was a wonderful distraction, Janice should know, if it hadn’t have been for wee Jackie she doubted even she could have ignored the state of her marriage for so long. If it hadn’t have been for her own nightmare of a pregnancy, and that Jackie barely bothered to sleep with her more than once a month, Janice would have liked more children.

Well one little girl would have been nice…with her eyes and maybe curls like…

Stopping suddenly Janice shocked herself with the direction her thoughts had gone.

“Janice? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Shaking her head a little, as if to shake loose those ridiculous thoughts that had sprung from nowhere, Janice forced herself to smile. “Sorry just…”

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“Something like that.” Janice replied, her smile a little more natural as they heard Isla’s loud demands for them to hurry up.

“Let’s get her settled, then I’ll put the kettle on and you can catch me up on how the move went.” Janice suggested, anxious to have something else to distract her.

There wasn’t going to be any little girls in her future…well not unless Jackie made her a grandmother, and that was something Janice was happy to wait for.

\---/---  
Day 76: Malcolm  
\---/---

Malcolm’s mouse hovered over the order button. Fifteen roses, a combination of red and light pink, same day delivery:

Fifteen for I’m sorry;  
Red for I love you;  
Light pink for Admiration and Sympathy.

Christ he was turning into some pathetic sap, googling the meaning of roses like some acne ridden teenager with new romantic aspirations…perhaps he should go out tomorrow and get himself a fucking frilly fronted shirt?

He had been here staring at the damn screen for over twenty minutes, he had entered all the necessary details, he had even typed a cryptic message for the card, and yet Malcolm couldn’t find the courage to hit place order. He should leave it well enough alone, and yet since the incident with Janice’s resignation, Malcolm had been finding it increasingly difficult to maintain that emotional distance.

He had taken to stalking her name himself online. At first he had justified it to himself that he had to see if his pleas to Jamie had paid off; yet as the number of articles and tweets and retweets dropped off suddenly, Malcolm still continued to follow her name in the news. He was turning into a stalker. It had to stop, and yet the only way Malcolm could think to stop this compulsion was to find a way for Janice to forgive him and take him back.

He should have been sitting here putting the final touch on his speech for tonight’s charity event, an industry dinner that he was suddenly once again the guest of honour at. It was an opportunity for Malcolm to strut his stuff, to show all the doubters that not only was he back but he was here to stay. Even though it wasn’t a political event there would be a few of Ollie’s spies there and Malcolm needed to be at his best.

So it was mad that instead of working on perfecting his speech, Malcolm was putting stage 1 in his “getting Janice to forgive him plan” in motion.

1) Flowers, man’s oldest tactic…

It seemed pathetic to Malcolm and yet he couldn’t think of anything better as an opening gambit.

Yes he was doing everything he could to help protect Janice from behind the scenes, but she hadn’t asked him to, she had no obligation to…well Malcolm hadn’t done it so she would forgive him. He had reached out to Jamie because he couldn’t bear seeing her hurt any further because of his mistakes. Yet he wasn’t a saint, Malcolm was honest enough to admit that if Janice happened to learn her respite was because of him, and well if it lessened her anger towards him, that he would consider that a bonus.

Still he hesitated.

What if the flowers made things worse?

Yet could things really get any worse?

Janice wasn’t talking to him, their relationship was over, was there a worse position this could possibly shift to?

Click…there…it was done. Now Malcolm could only keep his fingers crossed and hope Janice didn’t simply throw them straight in the bin, that she at least considered his request to talk. Malcolm would have kept his fingers crossed all day if he could get away with it.

He knew there was a long way to go but there was no chance of getting anywhere if Janice wouldn’t even talk to him.

\---/---


	34. Chapter 34

Day 76 pm: Charity fundraiser  
\---/---

“Well I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Malcolm knew that voice, the words spoken seemed pleasant, as would the speaker; the bland Mr Average face, the boyish looks that hid the face of a viper, an act that even Malcolm had been fooled by. Ollie Reeder had learnt every lesson Malcolm had to impart, yet unlike Malcolm he had no compunction about turning those talents on his allies as well. Ollie wasn’t any smarter than him, Malcolm knew in a fair fight he could take the cocky little Oxbridge shit apart, but Ollie knew this, he knew not to fight fair.

“Well it isn’t the little hairy ball sack himself.” Malcolm turned, plastering on a grin he certainly didn’t mean, grey eyes boring into Ollie’s little piggy eyeballs. “And I suppose if I was in the mood to play footsie then I should congratulate you as well, the polls have certainly picked up.”

Malcolm didn’t need to labour the point that it certainly wasn’t down to Ollie that the No campaign’s figures had started to recover. Still it was a victory that Malcolm didn’t particularly want to claim, it made him feel dirty just thinking about the part he played, and the high personal cost. However he couldn’t deny the frisson of pleasure as Ollie’s jaw clenched a little, a small frown gathered above the bridge of his glasses, as he took a sip of his champagne instead of replying.

“Well as lovely as this hasn’t been…” Malcolm began to turn, lifting a hand to wave a mocking goodbye, but he should have known Ollie wasn’t just going to let him insult him and walk away unscarred.

“You know I always figured you were queer.” Ollie’s voice remained soft, that even pleasant tone, like he was recalling some funny story told down the pub and not blatantly insulting Malcolm. Waiting until he had all of Malcolm’s attention before continuing. “I honestly couldn’t believe it when Jamie told me…”

“Jamie told you jack shit.” Malcolm countered confidently, squashing down the anxiety, Jamie was a grade a cunt but Malcolm knew that deep down he loathed Ollie just as much as Malcolm did. Ollie was Jamie’s boss, but they weren’t pals the way he and Jamie had been and Malcolm just knew despite everything that Jamie wouldn’t go running off to Ollie with personal gossip about him.

Ollie’s smile twisted a little, pursing till it looked to Malcolm like a chimpanzee’s arse.

“Whoever told me it still doesn’t change the fact that she was out of your league.” Ollie continued on, dripping poisonous words in that same soft friendly tone. “No wonder she dumped you.”

“Aye.” Malcolm replied simply, savouring the moment Ollie floundered a little as he expected Malcolm to defend himself. Yet there was no need for Malcolm to argue, Janice had always been too good for him, yet that mere fact wouldn’t stop Malcolm trying to win her back.

“Wow she really had you whipped.” Ollie actually had the nerve to laugh in his face. “This is better than I thought, Malcolm Tucker brought down by a bit of…”

“No one gives a fuck what you think Reeder. I certainly don’t.” Malcolm snapped, cutting Ollie off before he could dare call Janice something crude.

“No…no…”Ollie’s reply was quiet and thoughtful, and that alone caused Malcolm’s stomach to clench. “But you certainly seem to care about her.”

“So what if I do, what does it matter to you?” Malcolm tried to front it out. “You said it yourself, she dumped me, she doesn’t want anything to do with me; I would think you of all people would appreciate seeing me miserable?”

“Oh Malcolm you wound me.” Ollie trilled. “I don’t hold grudges, and I wish you all the best in your new position, all that I ask is that you stay out of my sandpit, but since you seem incapable of doing that…”

“What?” Malcolm knew Ollie was baiting him, he knew that he should walked away a good thirty seconds ago, and yet if there was any threat to Janice Malcolm needed to know about it.

“Did you think I would recognise your hand behind the Clough scandal? Such convenient timing…”

“You’ve gotten fucking paranoid Reeder.” Malcolm sneered, “Barely in post two years and you’ve already hearing voices, you should take up drinking at least that way you’d an excuse for seeing things that aren’t there.”

“And you’re going soft in your old age…or is it true that love makes you weak? I mean imagine putting your entire future on the line for a woman that dumped you…”

“What was that Ollie???” Malcolm mocked, lifting a hand to his ear as if straining to hear. “Are the voices in your head whispering bullshit again?”

“We’ll see soon enough who is bluffing Malcolm.” Ollie Reeder hissed, before hiding his irritation under a smirk. “And when I win I expect you to come to my office on bended knee and beg me for mercy.”

\---/---

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……………Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

At the sound of the front door bell ringing Janice froze, her laughter at Isla’s antics, as she tried to eat her slice of poppy seed cake in one go, dying.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Mary asked out of politeness but the look on Janice’s face told her the answer. “I can go and answer it for you.” She offered, they were both still dressed for swimming and the last thing Janice needed was to have her half-naked self-splashed all over the newspapers.

“No I should…”

“Janice it is no bother…I don’t mind.” Mary insisted, setting down her napkin and rising from the table, picking up a towel to cover up her swimsuit. “Just stop Isla from eating anymore of that cake; she’ll be on a sugar high all evening.”

Nodding Janice watched as the younger woman walked out of the room, forcing a smile when Isla grinned at her, blue sugar stained teeth standing out.

“You’re a messy little thing.” Janice teased, using her own napkin to clean the girls face.

Yet she couldn’t help but be distracted by not knowing who was at the door. She should have gone herself, what if it was wee Jackie; would he simply turn and leave if he bumped into Mary?

“I’m just going to go check on your mum.” Janice explained as she stood up. “No more cake, promise?”

“Promise.” Isla giggled, crossing her finger over her heart in a solemn gesture that had Janice laughing.

Stepping into the hall Janice caught sight of Mary by the door signing for something…a large flower bouquet set down just inside the door, the beautiful roses made Janice hesitate for a moment. There was only one man who would send her flowers like that and Janice wasn’t sure she was ready to hear from Malcolm. She missed him, she loved him, Janice couldn’t turn off her feelings just because he had betrayed her, and yet she was through with being used by men.

But they were beautiful flowers….

Janice was just reaching out, her fingertips skimming the petals when a sudden yelp startled her. Mary was trying to force the door shut, but there was a man with a camera snapping away stopping her.

“Leave her the hell alone!” Janice snapped, stepping closer to help Mary with the door. Yet her sudden appearance only seemed to make the paparazzi worse.

Somehow between the two of them they managed to get the door to shut in his camera’s face and Janice didn’t waste a second before pulling the deadbolts across.

“Are they always like that?” Mary asked panting slightly from the sudden excitement.

“Not that bad…I’m so sorry.” Janice sighed, her heart sinking at the thought that her reprieve really had been temporary and that now the bloody papers would have pictures of her in her swimming costume to plaster across their pages.

“I can’t understand why they bothered photographing me at all.” Mary muttered before glaring down at the roses. “That was a dirty trick with the flowers.”

“Yes…Yes it was.” Janice added her heart breaking into even smaller pieces as she retrieved the note from the roses, not wanting to look but knowing she had to, surely he couldn’t have been behind this…

You dumped him Janice, a little voice in her brain unhelpfully reminded her, Malcolm had thought nothing or betraying her when they were still together, so who knew what he would now be capable of when he had nothing at all to lose?

I’m sorry…Can we talk…M

Then on the bottom there was a date and time and the name of an old Glasgow pub that Janice hadn’t set foot in for years.

Angry…no Janice was beyond angry right now. The nerve of that man, to set her up like this, and then have the sheer gall to ask her to meet him in the same breath.

“Janice…Janice are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Janice replied, her tone clipped, yet Janice didn’t need to look at Mary to know the younger woman didn’t believe her.

Well she might not really be fine but she would be…Janice McCann was fed up of taking all the crap the world was dishing out, it was time to get proactive…starting with Malcolm Tucker.

\---/---


	35. Chapter 35

Day 80: Duck & Drake Glasgow 6pm

\---/---

It was an old man pub always had been and this was one of the main reasons Malcolm had picked it. Less chance of having to shout at each other over too loud music or struggle to find a seat, less chance of smart phones too, Malcolm doubted Janice would want to have any more of her private business spread over the papers.

Malcolm shouldn’t have been surprised by the depths Ollie would sink to, yet to target an innocent woman, whose only real crime was in being human and caring about other people more than herself, well that was sick. Malcolm had felt sick when his assistant had piped up that Janice McCann’s name was all over the papers. The tabloid press loved a good scandal, and weren’t above sensationalising and twisting facts to make them seem even more lurid than they really were.

Malcolm had read press content that in one piece claimed Janice had moved her lesbian lover into her house barely waiting for the sheets to cool, the next accused her of being bitter rivals with the younger woman the two fighting over the affections of the late great Jackie McCann, another exposed the secret baby drama, a picture of little Isla was plastered next to one old still photo of her secret footballer father. There was only one constant to the narrative, the bad guy in all of them was Janice.

Lesbian, bitch, home wreaker, jealous wife…. The words were cruel and insidious, Ollie had certainly gotten his money’s worth and Malcolm could only wonder what it had cost him, perhaps very little, it was good gossip and Janice hadn’t issued any statements to counter them, nor had she threatened to sue for slander. Just what idiot was in charge of handling this?

As he sipped his pint Malcolm glared down at the slightly sticky table top, Malcolm kept himself distracted by thinking up strategies to try and manage the situation. Anything to keep himself from thinking that Janice wasn’t coming, she was already late, and Malcolm wasn’t sure just how long he was going to sit here like some sort of idiot just waiting for her. Instead he traced shapes in the condensation on his glass, his heart sinking every time the door opened and someone who wasn’t Janice walked in.

Eventually he stopped looking up, just drank his pint and brooded how he had completely fucked up his life. He had given up a woman who loved him because he was a greedy idiot who actually thought he could have it all, great career and a woman who loved him. Yet here he was, Janice was cutting him out of her life and the job he had risked it all for paid well but dear god it was boring. Mundane, there was no challenge, Malcolm was a suit; he set direction but never actually got his hands dirty. Hell he even had people to do his bollocking for him.

Yet it would have all been worth it if he still had Janice to share it with, if he had her to come home to grumble how about he was surrounded by idiots, if he could use his new executive salary to spoil her the way she deserved. Malcolm could still feel the pull of that hammock on the beach, the sound of waves lapping at the beach as the sun set, and yet it felt hollow if there wasn’t a petite brunette wrapped around him.

\--/---

She didn’t have to do this. Mary had told her that several times before Janice had bundled her and Isla on a plane at Glasgow airport bound for a villa in Spain that surprisingly Rab had offered for her own use. It had been a kind gesture from a man, who was now more of an acquaintance than the close friend she had once slept with.

Mary had also told her that none of this was her fault.

Janice hadn’t plied a stupid teenager with alcohol, whilst Janice had been out at her book group, she hadn’t been the one to take her virginity and get her pregnant. That had all been Jackie McCann and yet the papers didn’t seem to give a damn about her then thirty four year old husband knocking up a seventeen year old girl, only the supposed scandal that Janice had according to one paper forced her husband into bi-sexual orgies with young women, or according to another was a jealous frigid shrew who forced her hero husband to seek comfort in the arms of other women.

If wasn’t her life they were ripping apart Janice would have laughed. How could anyone be a frigid bi-sexual who also arranged orgies? It was ridiculous, contradictory rubbish and yet no matter how Janice tried to reason and rise above it, it hurt when people she had known for years suddenly turned their backs on her.

The Health Club had cancelled her membership; her former colleagues in the Party and at The Chronicle no longer accepted her calls. No one wanted to hear her side of the story, and as much as Janice wanted to run and hide like Mary, her pride wouldn’t let her. They had taken enough from her, her career, her son and her reputation, but they would not force her out of her home as well.

So here she was, dressed scruffily in sweats and a hoody, her hair pulled up under a baseball cap. It wasn’t an attractive look by any estimation but then Janice wasn’t here to impress Malcolm Tucker, she was here to give the man a piece of her mind. She had already walked up and down the street several times trying to gird the courage to actually go inside.

Part of the fear was that this was another trap, that the pub would be full of journalists and paps ready to tear her to shreds again. The other part was that this was real, that Malcolm really was sorry and that Janice would have to stop her stupid heart from listening to his bloody lies and believing them. She was done with being made a fool of by any man, even Malcolm Tucker.

There before her courage could fail her again, Janice pushed open the door to the pub. Stepping inside her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of old tobacco and spilt beer, this place clearly hadn’t been refurbished after the smoking ban, and the scent of stale cigarettes still lingered like the smell of mould. In some ways this was a smart place to meet, as Janice couldn’t imagine ever stepping in here of her own free will, and it was certainly not a place she would bump into anyone she knew.

There was a cluster of old men at the man, chatting quietly to each other as a TV showing the football results played on a large silent screen. Her gaze found Malcolm a second later, sitting in a booth near the back, wearing a light blue shirt, the top two buttons unfastened, his gaze locked on the table top, he hadn’t noticed her arrival.

He looked good, casual, the blue shirt complimented the silver highlights in his hair and Janice felt her stomach flip a little. Perhaps she should have worn something a little nicer. Janice squashed that thought before it could grow roots. She wasn’t here to appeal to Malcolm Tucker, who cared if he thought she looked rough, she didn’t want him to think of her like that anymore; Janice just wanted him to leave her the hell alone.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, Janice was halfway across the floor when Malcolm finally looked up, and the power of their gazes meeting all but knocked the wind out of her…

Janice couldn’t breathe, in that moment she knew and cursed her stupid stupid heart that had suddenly started to pound. She still loved the idiot. Who was she trying to kid, of course she did. She was Janice McCann, doormat for the male species ,of course she still loved him, it would be too bloody easy if she looked into his eyes and felt nothing.

\---/---

She was here….Janice was here…

Malcolm could feel a strange pressure behind his eyes as she met and held her gaze, a strange prickling itch that made him want to rub them. Yet he blinked it away, refusing to look away, afraid that if he did even for a second that she would vanish.

Even now she had stopped in her approach and Malcolm found himself rising from his seat, gentlemanly moving around the table and pulling out the opposite chair for her. He doubted Janice wanted to sit in the booth with him, not if he couldn’t do something about the very real fear on her face. She was really afraid of him, or afraid of what he might do or say and how it might make her feel…Malcolm hoped that was the reality and that it wasn’t really him she was scared of.

“Hi.”

It was a weak opening and yet Malcolm found that all his carefully prepared words had left him, and he was back to being that bumbling boy on a first date, unable to do anything but gawp at the pretty girl, who had actually agreed to go out with him. Even trying to go incognito Janice was stunning and Malcom could feel his palms starting to sweat.

“Hi back.”

Janice tried not the blush at her own rather lacklustre reply. It wasn’t the image she wanted to present, not the I’m over you and you never meant anything in the first place image. Still she waited until an awkward Malcolm stood back from the chair he had pulled out for her, before sliding into it…the thought of him standing over her, so close she could have felt the heat from his body…no Janice was not going to think about Malcolm’s body in any context, and she certainly wasn’t going to think about how that colour shirt really suited him and brought out the bluer tone to his eyes.

“Thank you for coming…I didn’t know if you would.” Malcolm offered when Janice remained stoically silent, her blue gaze piercing in its intensity.

He forced his hands under the table, gripping them together, lest he gave into the impulse to reach across and lay his hands over Janice’s where they rested on the table top.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Y…No…I’m not planning on staying long enough to drink it.” Janice corrected herself, her bite more for her own changeable mind than it was meant for Malcolm, still it was something when he looked almost wounded by her declaration.

“Right…I guess I can understand that.” Malcolm replied, careful to keep just how hurt he was by her rejection out of his voice, but perhaps he overcompensated a little. “I suppose I should just be grateful you came at all.”

It was either bitterness or sarcasm and Janice had no intention of listening to either, her lips pursing slightly, the only indication of her anger before she pushed herself out of her seat.

“No…Please…please!” This time Malcolm gave into his instinct his hand reaching out to catch Janice’s before she could leave him. “Please I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that…It’s just I’m scared Janice, I really don’t want you to leave.”

It was humiliating, begging, and Janice was the only one Malcolm had ever lowered himself to beg for or from. He could feel it blooming in his cheeks already, him a grown man admitting he was scared, and to do so publically…

Feeling the interest of the bar on her Janice made a choice, she retook her seat; shaking off Malcom’s hand she folded her own in her lap. Partly to discourage any more impromptu hand holding from Malcolm, and partly to hide just how such an innocent touch had left her trembling.

“You asked me here Malcolm and I came, I assume you have something you want to tell me, so…”

The get on with it was unspoken but Malcolm knew a McCann command when he heard one.

“I needed to see you.” Malcolm confessed, and suddenly the table top seemed a far safer option than staring into Janice’s doubting gaze. “I don’t have any fancy excuses, or any arguments to excuse what I did…I know you have every right to never want to see me again, let alone forgive me. I just needed in my soul to see you, to talk to you, to check that you were ok, to tell you how sorry I am, that not a day goes by when I don’t think about you, that I don’t regret fucking up the best thing I ever had…”

Malcolm didn’t need to look up to know Janice winced at his sudden expletive, and Malcolm reached into his pocket, retrieving a pound that he then placed on the table top.

She couldn’t help it…it started as a giggle and then a snort…and then Janice was laughing so hard it hurt, she could barely breathe and then when the tears came it was like a sudden flood of emotion was released in a torrent and Janice couldn’t dam it any more.

It wasn’t even that funny, not really, Malcolm looking like a shamed hound and then when he slipped that swear box contribution on to the table. Perhaps she had just been supressing her feelings for so long, her grief, her anger, her frustration, her feelings for Malcolm that she had tried so hard to deny even to herself.

“Janice…?”

It was too much, the tears wouldn’t stop and when Malcolm reached for her Janice was afraid, afraid at just how much she wanted nothing more than to fall back into his arms, and yet despite her need, despite his pretty words Janice just couldn’t…her heart was shattered and one more blow and Janice knew she would bleed out.

“I’m sorry…I can’t…” Janice hiccupped through her hysterics, pushing herself away from the table and towards the door.

No…No…No…Malcolm wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or not, standing from his seat Malcolm could only watch broken as the love his life literally ran from him. The eyes of the bar on her and it took a few seconds too long for Malcolm’s brain to catch up and then he was heading after her.

\---/---


	36. Chapter 36

Day 80: Glasgow 6.30pm  
\---/---

Going after her didn’t make him a stalker…it didn’t make him a manipulative ex either…at least that was what Malcolm was trying to convince himself because there was no force on earth that could have kept him from following a crying Janice anywhere. Janice fortunately for him hadn’t made it far, she had stormed out of the pub quickly but whatever wild energy had driven then now seemed to have dissipated, and she was ducked into the doorway of one of the many boarded up shops.

Edging closer Malcolm did nothing to try and hide his approach but he didn’t go out of his way to announce it either. Instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out, a rather tattered tissue, it looked like it had taken a round or two in the washing machine, still it was clean. When he was within arm’s length Malcolm offered Janice his rather meagre peace offering.

The tissue practically fell to pieces when she blew her nose on it, but it was more than Janice had had a moment before, and it was better than having to face Malcolm with a runny nose.

“Than…”

“You don’t have to thank me for not being such a complete arsehole that I will let a lady cry.” Malcolm insisted softly.

“That’s another pound you owe me Malcolm.” Janice managed to sniff, as she dabbed at her cheeks.

“Currency or flesh?” Malcolm joked darkly, fighting against the urge to pull Janice into his arms and hold her together until she no longer seemed so fragile. “One is easier these days than the other I’ll be honest.”

“Oh yes the new job, everything turned out just like you wanted?” Janice couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice, and dammit why should she try to moderate it.

“No…not like how I wanted at all.” Malcolm answered softly. “It pays well, and it is good not to feel like any moment I am going to lose the shirt off my back, but Janice you have to know…”

“What?” Janice snapped. “What must I know Malcolm? All I know is that I was lied to and used, so many times and in so many ways, and if that wasn’t enough you keep tormenting me. Just because you didn’t get it all, why did you have to be so cruel about it…why couldn’t you have just let me go?”

“Because I love you…”

“Love?” Janice scoffed. “You call this love? Hounding me with the press day after day, allowing me to think it was all finally blown over, and then coming back to stick the knife in deeper; using things that I told you because I trusted you, and spilling it all to the press when I didn’t fall back into your arms. Did you think if you took everything away from, everything that was mine, that when I had nothing left you could just swoop in like some knight in shining armour? That I would be so grateful for the rescue that I’d just forget all the…the shit you put me through.”

The denial was on Malcolm’s lips and it stayed there because his brain actually caught up at that second. Was that really what it looked like for Janice?

Sure some of the facts were warped, other than the initial leak about her affair that was his fault; Malcolm hadn’t been responsible for the press intrusion over her resignation nor that over Isla and Mary. Yet the accusation of wanting to ride in and solve all her problems by being the hero, the accusation of wanting to pick Janice up and ride off into the sunset, leaving all of the detritus of Janice’s old life behind…

It was not only arrogant it was cruel and Malcolm felt ashamed, there had been few actions Malcolm hadn’t been able to rationalise away over the years, few things that couldn’t be excused as being for the greater good…in the long run…that stopped him from feeling the personal responsibility for his actions. The business with Tickle and now this with Janice…

“You’re right, I did come here because you needed rescuing and I thought that if I did it that you might…”

“Love you back? Forgive you?” Janice finished Malcolm’s confession for him before adding one of her own. “Love isn’t the problem here Malcolm, it never has been and I could probably bring myself to forgive you to, holding on to bad feelings, well they only hurt the person who holds them…”

Startled by Janice’s confession Malcolm felt his heart start to beat wildly in his chest, could he dare to hope…

“It’s trust.” Janice added and with that Malcolm’s hope died.

Trust was fragile, it had to be nurtured and protected, given time to grow at its own pace, it couldn’t be forced, or bribed or bought.

“I do love you Janice.” Malcolm whispered softly. “I just realised though that I don’t deserve you. I thought if I could make all the bad stuff go away, if I could protect you, take you away from everything…But I don’t have the right to do that do I?”

“No.” It was one of the hardest words Janice had ever said, her own heart was breaking all over again and part of her wanted to reach out and shake Malcolm.

Why was he only figuring this out now, why couldn’t he have worked it out months ago before everything had gotten so out of hand?

“Do you want me to go away?” Malcolm didn’t want to ask the question, mainly because he knew the answer was not one he was going to want to hear. Yet this wasn’t about what he wanted anymore, if he truly loved Janice then it should be about what she wanted.

How could she answer that? Janice knew what her head was saying, her heart however was conflicted, yet it Malcolm was ever going to start to prove he really loved her and not just said the words…

“I think it would be best if you did.”

Best…how could this be best for either of them? Malcolm felt like his world was collapsing for a second time, and once again he could only blame his own stupidity. Yet he could do this for Janice, because this was what was best for her. He had blundered in and destroyed her life and no matter how sorry he was or how much he wanted to help Malcolm couldn’t rebuild Janice’s life, only she could do that. He had to step aside and give her space to do so, even if that life never included him.

Malcolm didn’t even realise he was crying until he felt the coldness on his cheeks, his hands reached up to touch and he was startled to see water on his fingertips…a glance up at the sky confirmed it wasn’t raining…tears…tears for her and him and what they could have been.

“Ok.” For a man gifted with words Malcolm suddenly couldn’t find any. “Ok.”

He was letting her go. Janice expected to feel conflicted, slighted that Malcolm was giving up without a fight, and yet all she felt was grief tinged with relief. He wasn’t going to fight her, Malcolm wasn’t going to make this even harder for her, and Janice was grateful for that. In that moment she could believe he really did love her and it was such a bittersweet feeling. To realise she was loved by someone just as she was letting them go.

Laying her hand on his cheek, Janice brushed the tears from Malcolm’s skin, giving into one last weakness as she wrapped her other arm around his middle and hugged him. This might be the last time they ever saw each other and Janice didn’t want their last moments to reflect badly on them.

It was a pittance and yet Malcolm clung to it, he wrapped his arms around the slight little bit of a woman, pressed his damp cheek to the top of her head as Janice burrowed into his neck, her nose cold against his skin.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” Malcolm whispered, feeling Janice’s arms tighten about him in response.

She knew and he was forgiven.

He had to let go. Malcolm had to be the one to do this. He had asked if she wanted him to leave her be and she had said yes, so he had to be the one to make the first move, he couldn’t expect Janice to carry that burden as well. Removing the baseball cap Janice was wearing Malcolm smoothed back her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before replacing it and unwrapping his other arm from around her.

A moment later Janice let him go and Malcolm stepped back, he tried to force a smile, and he was almost certain Janice tried as well but it was difficult to tell with something in his eye. One step and then another…Malcolm was backing away…then he forced himself to turn and start walking, not looking back, he wasn’t sure where he was going to go but once again Malcolm Tucker would be making the journey alone.

\---/---


	37. Chapter 37

\---/---  
Day 125: Casa McCann 7pm  
\---/---

Janice was tired but it was a good tired, the tired that came from a long day doing productive things, of being useful. She had done plenty of volunteering when wee Jackie had been younger, but that had all revolved around the PTA or the junior football league, and had normally involved her smiling blandly, whilst fundraising or giving out tea. This time she was getting her hands dirty, helping young mothers get back on their feet. Mary had pointed Janice in the local charity’s direction, when Janice had moaned about how no one wanted her; she couldn’t even give her help away.

Some days she was helping shift and sort the donations of children’s clothes and equipment. Others she was going out with one of the more experienced volunteers to carry out home visits. All of it made her feel useful, but more importantly she was being judged by what she did and not by what lies the press had printed about her. 

Janice had eventually made some traction there as well, securing the services of an experienced libel solicitor who had forced several of the newspapers to print retractions. They may have been pitifully small when compared the original stories, but it gave Janice some sense of satisfaction, and it had stopped any new press intrusion.

Still when she came home at night the house felt too large and empty. Wee Jackie was still living with his girlfriend’s family and Janice hadn’t heard from Malcolm; it had been over a month and nothing. Yes she had asked him to walk away, to give her space, and he had respected her wishes, the first time a man ever had. Yet none of these facts could change the fact that Janice missed him. Lying in her bed at night, staring up at the ceiling when she couldn’t sleep, the urge to pick up the phone, just to hear his voice, grew with every passing day not lessened the way Janice had expected.

The only thing that stopped her every time was the fear that Malcolm wasn’t laying there waiting for her call that he had already moved on. It was there every time she closed her eyes, images of Malcolm happily entangled in some pretty young blondes arms, another night it was a faceless brunette who haunted her thoughts. Even if he did love her Janice had rejected him, why would a wealthy handsome man stay at home moping over his broken heart when he could be out exorcising his feelings for her with some willing twentysomething?

The ball was in her court. That was the only thing Janice was sure of. Malcolm had made the first move before and she had told him to leave her alone, the man had his pride, by god did he have his pride and he had already bent that double for her.

Mary was forever nagging Janice to get back on the horse herself, the younger woman seemed determined to pay Janice back for her kindness by bossing her around. At Mary’s insistence her online dating profile had been created, yet Janice cringed inwardly every time she received a message from one of those sites. Most of the messages were filthy; it seemed she continued to attract either jerks or weirdos.

In truth Janice couldn’t recall the last time she went on a date? She had still been a teenager probably, she had been a naive seventeen year old when she had attracted Jackie’s attention, and that had been more of a bumping into each other whilst out with their own groups of friends. Jackie hadn’t been one for dating, one day she had been the girl he fancied and arranged to bump into, the next they were going out and she was Jackie McCann’s girl.

Did the one drink she had had with Martin before following him up to his hotel room even count as a date? Janice doubted that it did.

Still whilst Mary was convinced Janice needed a new man, Janice herself felt that she needed some old friends instead. She had been worried when she sent the invitation; it had been forever since the last group meeting, well the last one she had attended anyway. Clare had surprised to get her call, yet their unofficial American group leader had agree to pass on the message and Janice was nervously flitting about putting the finishing touches to the buffet.

Staring at the large spread that spoke more of Janice’s nerves than the seven discarded outfits on her bedroom floor, Janice could only hope someone came otherwise that was a lot of food going to waste. Food Janice knew she was barely going to touch herself, despite her many activities Janice still struggled with eating regularly. Her recent troubles had only exacerbated that anxiety and Janice’s dress was decidedly loose about her waist and hips…

The buzz of the front door bell cut off that thought and Janice hurried to the front door.

Pulling it open with a practised smile Janice was relieved to see Rab…accompanied by a slightly scowling Anselmo. The handsome Scotsman stepped inside without needing to be bid and wrapped a surprised Janice up into a hug. It helped her forced smile melt into something a little more genuine, even if Anselmo’s sour expression deepened as the hug lingered a little too long for his taste. Clearly the Spanish midfielder hadn’t forgiven or forgotten neither Janice’s brief affair with Rab, nor Janice’s rather desperate attempt to stake her own claim on the kind hearted Rab.

“How are ya Janice?” Rab asked softly, her hazel eyes soft as they lingered on Janice’s face, his hug having confirmed for him just how slight she felt.

“Good…well better than I was and getting better.” Janice confessed at Rab’s disbelieving expression. “Thank you both for coming I can’t say how much I appreciate it…at least now I know there will be someone to eat all the food.” Janice added, tentatively trying for a joke, relieved beyond measure when Rab laughed at her teasing.

“Brilliant!” The younger Scotsman had always loved her cooking, and it was one of the things he missed, even after moving in with his lover.

It seemed Rab’s childish enthusiasm could even thaw Anselmo’s icy exterior, an indulgent smile lighting up his handsome face, one that didn’t even freeze when his gaze met Janice’s own. It seemed the Spaniard was prepared to give her a second chance after all.

“Come in then…let me take your co…”Janice began only for Rab to roll his eyes at her as he took his coat and his boyfriend’s coat over to the hall closet.

Rab was right it was foolish to be so formal with old friends and Janice took a deep breath and forced out some of her nerves. “Go ahead and help yourself to wine or whatever you fancy…you know where everything is.” Janice added indulgently.

The buzz of the doorbell stopped Janice from following them and she opened the door to find Jean, Clare’s older and brasher sister. The brunette American’s presence surprised Janice and clearly that view was transmitted on her face as Jean scowled.

“Well are you going to invite me in?”

“Sorry yes…of course.” Janice blustered, stepping back as the designer clad successful author and part time escort stepped into the hallway, her dark eyes assessing the furniture and Janice’s own outfit before grudgingly nodding.

“There had better be booze…Clare said there would be booze.” Jean muttered and Janice directed her through into the kitchen where an excitable Rab could be heard clinking glasses.

Janice hadn’t even managed to shut the door completely before there was another guest. This one she didn’t recognise, a tweed wearing gentleman of undetermined years who look at the fashionable dressed Janice was something approaching terror.

“Sorry is this the right house for the Book Group?…Clare…”

“Yes it is please do come in.” Janice offered politely, yet she was relieved to spot Clare and Kenny just arriving in a taxi cab. When Janice had rung and offered to host the group she had forgotten that things would have moved on in her absence, that instead of a sympathetic, if often neglectful group of old friends, there might be new members she had yet to meet.

“Sorry we’re a bit late; we had to wait for a cab with a ramp.” Clare explained as Kenny wheeled himself up to the house.

“You’re hardly late.” Janice interjected before remembering the loitering gentleman. “Sorry we haven’t met I’m Janice…”

“Paul.”

Smiling politely Janice turned back to Clare who was helping Kenny up over the step. “Are we expecting anyone else?”

“That depends on whose here already.” Clare drawled, her tone a bordering on sarcastic before she caught herself, Kenny’s chastening glance had he acerbic American offering an apology to Janice with a hesitant smile.

“Sorry you’re right…”

“No Clare’s sorry.” Kenny interjected before Janice could start babbling. “It’s so good to see you Janice you’ve been missed.”

“Thank you.” Janice replied grateful for Kenny’s steady kindness.

Of the group he was always the most consistently kind and observant. Rab might know her better, thanks to months of living in the same house, yet Kenny was naturally considerate of other people’s feelings and it seemed a strange match between him and Clare, one brash and one quietly spoken…still it seemed to work for them.

“Kenny my man!” Rab’s exuberant greeting echoed through the hall and the younger Scotsman appeared drink in one hand, a plate of food in the other.

“You’s have got to come and see the spread Janice has put on…feeding the five thousand as always…but there are these wee shepherds pies and baby sized Yorkshire…it’s fucking brilliant!” Rab added, his tongue running away with him as he waved around his plate of food, only wincing when he realised what he had said and who he had said it in front of…the memory of Janice threatening to scrub his mouth out with soap still vivid after all these years after she had caught him swearing in front of wee Jackie.

“It’s fine Rab.” Janice couldn’t help but laugh a little. In some ways it was almost nostalgic to hear, and in that moment the feeling of missing Malcolm was like a sharp pain in her chest.

Forcing thoughts of Malcolm aside Janice threw herself into her hostess persona. She had guests, people that were her friends or close it and Janice had many many months of neglect to make up for. She could miss Malcolm later, for now she had rebuilding her own life to get on with.

\---/---  
Casa McCann 11pm  
\---/---

It had been a good night. There had been some awkward moments. Jean seemed a little too interested in hearing the ‘real story’ behind Janice’s drama filled life and Janice suspected that she was going to be a case study in the successful self-help authors newest book. Anselmo had finally stopped scowling when Janice stepped within five feet of Rab. And Janice had been flattered but had politely turned down Paul’s invitation to join him for coffee some time.

Janice made a resolution as she packed away the leftover food, and began to stack the tupperware away in her fridge, not to tell Mary she turned down a normal guy who asked her out. He was nice and normal and not Malcolm and that was the crux of the issue. There was no reason not to other than Janice just wasn’t ready…she didn’t want to be ready. It was a startling revelation as the kind man had bumbled over his invitation, Janice didn’t want to accept, and it felt wrong like she was cheating. It was at that moment Janice knew that despite what she had said to Malcolm that for her heart and her head she still felt like they were together.

She was going to call him…just as soon as she finished putting all this food away…and maybe after she washed up the glasses. Janice didn’t trust the dishwasher not to leave streak marks on the glass and she always did them by hand.

You’re putting it off you coward.

Hand trembling as she shut the fridge door Janice knew she couldn’t win an argument in her own head.

Just do it now before you talk yourself out of it.

But it was late and Malcolm might be asleep or worse than that he might not be asleep…and not be alone…Janice wasn’t strong enough to have that fear confirmed, so perhaps she should just phone him tomorrow….

No tonight, call him tonight and by tomorrow you could be down in London having dinner.

Ok ok, I’ll do it! There was nothing like being bullied by yourself it seemed and Janice crossed over to where her phone was charging, pulling up Malcolm’s number, her thumb hovering over the call button.

But what if he is with another woman and doesn’t answer, or worse he is and he does…he’d recognise Janice’s number and Janice wouldn’t be able to claim ignorance that it wasn’t her if she then changed her mind.

Call him from the landline and hide your number dummy.

Mind made up Janice crossed to the landline phone, typing in 141 before following with Malcolm’s mobile number. Biting her lip Janice warred with herself, part of her wanting to put down the phone before it rang and the other part forcing her to hold on. Once…then twice…then three times…he wasn’t answering, and the longer the phone rang the sicker Janice felt.

The click and the sound of Malcolm’s voice caused her stomach to flip…then the words registered…his voice mail…no…absolutely not…Janice was not leaving a message and she slammed the phone down her hand trembling on the receiver.

God she was such a coward, there could be a million and one reasons for Malcolm not to have answered, and only one of them was that he was shagging another woman. Didn’t Janice believe in him a little? Was it really Malcolm’s love she was doubting or was it her own self-worth telling her she was so easily replaceable?

Give him a chance idiot…leave a message…let him decide if you’re worth making an effort.

Picking the phone back up Janice repeated her motions, the phone rang and rang and Janice tried to think about what the hell she was going to say if Malcolm answered or what message she could possibly leave that didn’t make her sound pathetic and needy…

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Startled by the sound of the front door, Janice stared down at the ringing phone before reluctantly setting it back in its cradle. It was probably one of the group, perhaps they had left something behind?

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Hurrying to the door Janice tried not to let her irritation show on her face before she pulled the door open.

Yet it wasn’t one of her book group standing on her doorstep. It was her son, an agitated looking Jackie and one very nervous blonde by his side. By their feet there were several suitcases and even several black bin liners.

“Jackie.” Janice couldn’t resist the urge to pull her son into a hug, for a moment he resisted before whatever false pride that was holding him back gave way and suddenly Jackie was gripping onto her like a life line.

“Mam…”

Janice was surprised to hear her son’s voice break and she pulled back to see his normally pale face red with suppressed emotion.

“I’m sorry Mam after everything I said I know you should…we don’t have anywhere else to go…”

“Come in…None of that matters Jackie, you’re my son you are always welcome in my home…And so are your friends always.” Janice repeated before shooting what she hoped was a reassuring smile and the young blonde girlfriend who seemed on the verge of crying herself.

Helping the two teenagers in with all their bags Janice ushered them both into the kitchen, getting them settled at the table as she fussed with making them all some tea…even if right now Janice would kill for something a little stronger.

“Now tell me what happened?”

The pair shared a glance, and Janice felt her stomach clench in anticipation of something.

It was her son who finally found the courage to answer and wee Jackie looked so terrified for some reason that Janice couldn’t help but reach across the table and take his hand. “Jess’s parents kicked us out…she’s…we’re pregnant...you’re going to be a grandma.”

And just like that Janice’s whole world turned on its head

\---/---  
London Malcolm’s House 11:15pm  
\---/---

Rubbing the towel roughly over his wet curls Malcolm stalked about his kitchen, considering making himself a coffee before eventually pouring himself a whiskey instead.

He still had at least an hours work on tomorrow’s board presentation before it was up to the Malcolm Tucker standard. His impromptu shower had been just the thing to wake himself back up and get his brain firing on all cylinders again.

Retaking his seat at the breakfast bar Malcolm reached for his laptop, his gaze skimming over his phone that was plugged into the side charging.

Two missed calls…at this time?

Frowning Malcolm pressed his thumb to the start button, pulling up the information on the missed calls. If it was his bloody boss calling about changing this presentation again…But it wasn’t. It was two missed calls from a withheld number and then no voicemail message had been left.

Scowling Malcolm dropped the phone, bloody telemarketers, how the hell had they got his number?

Well it didn’t matter now, Malcolm had this presentation to finish and deliver and then he was taking the next two weeks off. He had more than earnt this holiday and one thing was certain Malcolm wouldn’t be taking calls from withheld numbers or his boss whilst he was chilling in the Caribbean.

\---/---


End file.
